


the Inquisitor's Secret

by Badlemur



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Desk Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, False Identity, Grey Wardens, Lies, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma, Sexual Content, anger issues, resolved issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:04:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6285859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Badlemur/pseuds/Badlemur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>IV'E EDITED THE STORY COMPLETELY. </p><p>Gale Trevelyan is a mage that escaped the Ostwick circle and developed skills as an assassin after joining a mercenary band in an effort to hide her magic from Templars. All her friends were killed when the conclave exploded. She resents very much having her freedom taken from her by the Inquisition, and has a bit of a temper. As well as a growing affection for a certain Commander. But she has a secret that could destroy her, the inquisition, and anything else she's allowed herself to care for.</p><p> <br/>This is my first fic, and I've gone through it and majorly edited it. I'm sure I'll be doing it again, because I really rushed certain parts of the story and it needed work. It's also a lot longer than I had originally planned and I'm still working on the final chapters. I definitely plan on finishing it, so please excuse the wait for the ending to be put up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where the Inquisitor Falls Out of Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been edited (I'm mostly putting this here for me to know I replaced it lol). I've edited the whole story to fix some plot holes, sloppy writing, and unsatisfactory story points.

It was rare to get a moment to herself. It was so strange to be lying in a soft bed in the middle of the day. Sunlight streaming through the tall glass paned windows, making rainbows on the rich rug. She barely spent any time in her official quarters. Every time she came up here, there was something new and shiny slowly replacing the barren dankness she originally remembered.  
Her name was Gale Trevelyan. Trev to her friends. Formerly a mage from the circle of Ostwick circle of mages. And an escapee. High born lady daughter to a wealthy and devout family. Ridiculously touted as the Herald of Andraste, and the Inquisitor of the Inquisition. Which was just a fancy way of saying if things fucked up, it was her fault.  
She supposed Josie was the one behind the betterment of her living situation. A powerful leader needs proper quarters, and so forth. She couldn't fault her taste, at least. But a barren horse blanket on the cold ground in the woods had always been much more comfortable than any finery. Finery tied you down and made you its slave. Owning things was a burden. Having nothing to your name but the clothes on your back and the knife strapped to your thigh, that was true freedom. Add a loyal hound and a good horse to the mix and that was a picture of true perfection. Though lately her dreams of freedom had started featuring a second inmate.  
    Trev didn't know when that second figure had actually started joining her in her little daydreams of perfection, but one night she was jolted awake by a very interesting dream. A very eye opening dream. Trust and admiration are certainly fine feelings to hold for a person, she reasoned. Especially if they more than deserved it. kind and strong. loyal. fair. intelligent. ruthless. with a shy sense of humor and such lovely, lovely eyes... dammit.  
    She couldn't have these thoughts and feelings. She was too guilty, she lied too much. But her heart wouldn't listen and her mind was easily persuaded...  
    She remembered the moment when she knew she was going to most likely die. She had looked into his stunning eyes and told him to save the people, to leave her behind. There was a moment when she had wanted to reach out and touch him. If she were going to die, she would have wanted to carry that into madness. But she hadn't had time to analyze what that had meant and in the end it wouldn't have mattered if she had died. But she hadn't died. She had been lost in a frigid canvas of white, bleeding and moving on instinct. How she had found the camp was either chance or luck. Maybe divine intervention. All she knew was that one moment she was in agony, and the next his voice was shouting at her to live. His strong arms were holding her up and carrying her to safety. She would never have thought that what she felt for him was love. Or anything else just as embarrassing. She just knew such a strong sense of relief and gratitude.  
          But then he told her that he was so grateful that she survived. That he had been terrified for her when she had gone to give them time to escape. The sweet pain in her heart had unsettled her. Confused the holy hell out of her. She couldn't ignore it and what it implied. She couldn't ignore him and what he had started to become in her eyes. Though she hid it, only allowing herself to feel it when she was alone.  
    She buried her head under her soft pillow and screamed out her embarrassed frustration into the mattress. A person was supposed to use their brain to think, not uselessly daydream about strong shoulders and firm lips. With that little scar that was just so biteable she could die.  
    More embarrassment left her body in a series of silent curses and the inability to lie still without wanting to lash out. She flailed around for a moment, unable to hold back the nervous energy that wanted to escape, then got a hold of herself and sat up, hugging her knees to herself. Trying to wrest control of her body back from her girlish hormones. I am a leader, she told herself, uselessly. I am a warrior. I summon fire at will and render my enemies deaths of screaming agony. I will not allow myself to yearn for a man as if I were some simple maid with no common sense. I need to find something to kill.  
             Just then, the soldiers at the front gates signaled the return of their commander. Excitement with a curious sensation of falling ended in a loud thud as she realized she had jumped up out of bed without telling her brain of the action. Her hip and shoulder hurt as she dragged herself up and through the glass doors of her balcony to look into the courtyard. The sight of his armor made her heart slam into her throat and drop to her knees. Her hands shook. For the barest moment she allowed him to fill her vision and let out the most embarrassing sigh. Thank the Maker her balcony was very high up and none of the guards could hear her. Thank the maker HE couldn't hear her. But then the shouts for a healer reached her ears and she saw that he needed to be helped from his horse. The cold dread that followed her feet as she practically threw herself down the stairs and through doors to get to him made the pit of her stomach feel like ice.


	2. the Commander is Not a Good Patient

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been edited.

"Please, commander, allow us to take you to your quarters. You need a healer and you need to rest."  
    "Nonsense. This isn't much more than a scratch. Stop mother henning me! I need to make my report to the herald as soon as possible." Even though he knew the soldier was right, it still annoyed Cullen.  
    "But sir, you're bleeding-"  
    "I already said no! Do you want me to stick you in the dungeon for disobeying me?"  
    "What if I stick you in the dungeon to keep you from bleeding all over my floor?" That voice was like smoke and sighs tinged with strength.  
    His eyes found her in the shadows, sitting lazily on a table. One foot swinging free and the other perched on a chair. That sarcastic, amused voice did little to hide her irritation. Her long braid, as thick as a rope, swung back and forth as it hung of the table. mimicking the movement of her leg. "And exactly why is my commander injured? Did no one sacrifice themselves for the defense of your person? Or perhaps my soldiers have become lazy by example, hmmm?"  
    "My lady! That isn't true at all!" exclaimed the soldier at his side.  
    "Hush, private. The Herald is only joking." Cullen's hand left his side and he stood a bit taller.  
    "Am I?" She laughed as she slid off the table and made her way to them. "I've been told I have one hell of a mouth."  
    He blinked and cleared his throat awkwardly, muttering, "I wouldn't know about that. Stop picking on my new recruits."  
    She grinned devilishly. Eyes the color of sea glass turned sly with amusement. "All right, I'll behave. Let me look at your wound."  
    "But I need to give you my report immediately."  
    "Does it involve dragons, evil magicks, the end of the world or a food shortage at the keep?"  
    His lips firmed into a strong line. "No."  
    "My mother isn't coming to visit, is she?"  
    A small surprised laugh escaped his stern mouth. She always had a way of catching him off guard with her wit. "Not that I know of."  
    "Thank the Maker. I'd take a horde of darkspawn over my mother any day." The relief in her voice was not feigned. Cullen had to wonder what kind of woman her mother was when the daughter was a hellion without equal.  
    "You can fill me in on what you have while you sit and I look at your wound."  
    "But-" he stammered.  
    She ignored him and walked through a side door and didn't wait for him to follow. Of course he would follow her. He had tried once to escape her ministrations. He soon learned you don't escape a crazy mage who knows how to blend into the shadows and uses knives as well as fire. He'd much rather not embarrass himself in front of his men that way again.  
    Josie's office was warm and comfortable. While she did her best to make the herald's home look stately and expensive, she did very little to make it homey. The herald wouldn't have cared as she liked to sneak off and sleep in trees, and those that visited didn't warrant any comfort. They needed to be persuaded and in some cases intimidated. But Josie's job was to make people amenable and agreeable. Her furniture was soft. You sank into the chairs and reclined luxuriously into pillows. It smelled like tea and biscuits. It was designed to lull you and catch you off your guard.  
    Josie and Leliana had been looking at some papers on the desk when they walked in, and immediately came over to help when they realized the commander was injured.     
    "Help me take his armor off so I can look at that wound.” Trev knew what she was doing. Being a healer was second nature to her at this point. Her knowledge was extensive, even if her bedside manner lacked subtlety.  
    In no time at all they had him sitting in a chair, armor off and shirt pulled up. Leliana went to get some warm water and soft cloths, and Josie went to send for more suitable clothes for him to change into, leaving them both alone.  
    The herald sank down to the floor beside him to get a better look at his side and he protested. "I need to look at what you did to yourself so I can fix it, all right? Stop acting like a child and let me do my job." She poked his side and he winced.  
    "Your job certainly isn't to tend to me. There are other healers that can look me over."  
    "Actually, yes, this is my job. I am a trained healer, if you remember. The only good thing I ever got from that damned circle they stuck me in." She always sounded so annoyed when she talked about the circle.  
    "I thought you were an assassin," he joked. "How does a healer kill people?"  
    She smiled sarcastically. "Very easily."  
    He pointed a finger at her nose. "You sound like Sera."  
    "Maker forbid I ever sound that incoherent!" They both laughed until Leliana and Josie walked back in with their supplies in hand. while giving her his report, Cullen sat rigidly through the cleaning, and visibly relaxed when she applied healing. The wound was deep, but hadn't hit anything vital. The blow had probably hit bone, though, and was most likely extremely painful.  
    Her fingers were gentle as she probed his side for more damage and then applied a poultice of herbs and a bandage. While all of that went on, he did his best to not wince through the information he had been able to gather on Samson and the red templars. Trev listened intently, asked the appropriate questions, involved Leliana and Josie in the discussion, and just completely proved why she was the best choice for inquisitor. She listened, she problem solved, and she got everyone involved in the process, managing to find suitable solutions with their differing viewpoints.  
    Cullen was a soldier. He'd been trained as a templar from an early age, and ingrained within him was all the control and power of a holy order of soldiers that policed and battled mages. He had left that life to join the inquisition, but his training was the reason they had wanted him in the first place. He also had the tendency to be a bit ruthless in matters of war.  
    Josephine was an ambassador without equal. She could talk you out of your very soul and convince you it was your idea to begin with. A refined lady of noble standing, her persuasiveness and negotiation skills were excellent. She played the Game better than any Orlesian noble.  
    And then there was Leliana. Spymaster and even more ruthless than Cullen when it came to her duties. Her spy network was formidable and downright terrifying. As was she. A former assassin, she had a deep respect for Trev. A Mage with the skills of an assassin was completely unheard of. Leliana had been impressed.  
    Separately they were excellent at their jobs. Together they could barely agree on the most innocuous of things. If not for the herald, the inquisition would have failed right from the start.  
    When Cullen replaced his ruined shirt with the one Josie had brought for him and gathered up his armor to leave, Trev stopped him.  
    "Leave the poultice on until tonight. I will check it before you go to bed. You need to take it easy. If it still hurts, I will change the bandage and give you something soothing to help you sleep. And you will take it without complaining. Or lying."  
    He huffed out an annoyed breathe. "Very well, then. My thanks." He bowed his head for a moment and was gone.


	3. Girl Talk and Broken Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been edited.

"I'm in trouble." Trev sounded worried.  
Leliana and Josie both looked on solemnly and nodded in unison.  
"What do I do?"  
They both smiled unison.  
"Thats not what I mean."  
"It's what you need. And I warrant that's what he needs as well," Josie said.  
"The both of you are very obvious," Leliana chimed in. "It's rather awkward and adorable."  
"What do you mean, obvious? There's no way he would feel the same about me. I'm a mage. He's a templar. I know what happened in Kirkwall. He probably hates magic and is only polite to me out of duty."  
"He has come to terms with it, I think, or he would have a harder time with you being a mage. He supported the idea of you becoming inquisitor. He was quite agreeable. If he had a problem with you being a mage, he would have said so." Leliana was quite adamant.  
"A man doesn't half stammer and blush when a girl smiles at him out of duty. He's an intelligent man who has seen many things and has grown from them. He sees you as a pretty girl and it bothers him because he is a soldier and you are his leader. He's probably terrified of insulting you." Josie's reasoning was tempered with by indulgent smile.  
"I'm terrified of insulting him!" That was a lie if Trev had ever uttered one. And she had lied a lot. All the lies in the world couldn't save her from this dilemma. She had never worried about insulting anyone. She was terrified Cullen didn't reciprocate this awkward embarrassment. Life would be too horrible to live with this and not know someone else suffered it, too.  
Leliana smiled. "Then try to make it clearer to him that you wouldn't mind more."  
"Me?" The look of absolute horror on the inquisitor's face was most amusing for the other two ladies in the room. They did their best to hide it, though.  
"He will not be the one to make the first move, obviously. He is too chivalrous for that. You will have to be the one to do it," Josie said. "Though, I have a suspicion that underneath that controlled soldier's exterior there's something rather... exciting there."  
"Oh, yes," Leliana said. "He has a very passionate spirit. He would most likely make a very enthusiastic lover, if one were lucky enough to attract his attention."  
She saw the look on Trev's face and laughed. "Don't worry, inquisitor. Even if I were to pursue him, I am most certainly not the one who has his attention."  
Trev dragged herself over to the couch and sat cross legged. Tugging her braid forward, she wrapped it around her wrist several times. She didn't know how to respond to Leliana's words.  
"We can help you, if you like. I certainly have experience in catching men off their guard." Leliana gave her a slow wink for good measure.  
Trev's head dropped into her hands and she moaned out her abject misery.  
Leliana took pity on her and put her hand on her shoulder. "There, there, dear. It's just that you are both too sweet to approach this confidently. If it is this difficult, you must ease your way into it."  
Trev hugged herself tightly and stared into the fire for a moment. To actually be with Cullen she would have to face a lot of her lies and deceptions. But how she felt couldn't be ignored anymore. It was starting to affect how she ate and took a breath. "I... have secrets," she whispered. The admission too difficult to say in a clear voice.  
"We all have secrets," Josie said. "He will understand."  
"How can you be sure?"  
"He loves you," Leliana said simply.  
"I don't think so. He runs away from me. He treats me like another soldier. But then sometimes the things he says are so sweet my insides liquify and I turn into a damned milk maid. And then he yells at me because mages, magic, demons, blood magic, possession, etcetera bla bla bla. He makes me so mad and confused I want to take an axe to his eye socket, and then I realize what I'm thinking and... I'm turning into an irrational mess." She took in a sharp breathe. "I'm a mage, for fuck's sake! People bled for me to be able to flee Ostwick, and her I am, making doe eyes at a templar!"  
"I remember the Hero of Fereldan feeling the same way. She loved Alistair so very much." Leliana's voice was quiet and sad.  
"King Alistair and the Hero of Ferelden?"  
"Yes. He was a templar recruit who had training but still had yet to take his vows when he was conscripted into the Grey Wardens. And she was from the circle of Feraldan. I saw them flirt and fight and fall in love over the course of time. And then when he stepped up to be king, I saw them tear themselves apart for a love they could not keep." She smiled sadly, shadows in her eyes. "The sad, longing glances. The moments one would reach for the other without thinking and then have to stop themselves and pull back. They can't fool anyone. It's obvious as daylight. And she is the warden commander and cannot leave court. So she watches quietly as every suitable woman in Feraldon is paraded in front of him like a prize beast at market, and he watches her and they both slowly die inside."  
"That's... that's terrible." Visions of one sided agony passed through Trev's mind.  
"Yes, it is sad and terrible and heartbreaking. She is one of my very best friends and I love her like a sister. And I can do nothing to help her with her pain. Either of them."  
"Is that why you have such a soft spot for mages?"  
"No one should have the love of their lives denied to them because of the circumstance of their birth." Leliana paused meaningfully. "No one."  
Trev finally looked up. Everything she was feeling was plain to see in her eyes. She didn't want to be the warden commander. She didn't want to suffer in silence while the one she loved moved on without her. To take this chance with her heart was dangerous. But anything else was becoming unacceptable. She dashed away unshed tears with her fingertips and took a calming breathe.  
"All right. Tell me what to do.”


	4. Patients and Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been edited.

Trev's robes were light, the sleeves soft and flowing. It moved over her like water. But it was simple enough. Nothing suspicious about it at all, if you didn't factor in that she never really wore robes and she had no idea how to walk properly in a skirt. But both Josie and Leliana had assured her that it was an appropriate garment to wear to make a man notice you without telling him you want him to notice you. Barring that that idea was confusing as hell, she decided to follow the advice because they obviously thought they knew what they were talking about and she was painfully desperate and clueless.  
The easiest way to get to the commander's quarters was through the library. Solas nodded to her and exchanged pleasant words, wishing her a good evening. Trev never knew if the bald elven mage was messing with her or not. She tried to hide her blush and practically threw herself across the room to get away from his suspected amusement.  
Dorian passed her on his way to the great hall and raised an eyebrow at her clothes then made quite the show of looking away as if he didn't see anything, without even trying to hide his grin. But then he nonchalantly muttered something about good friends sharing gossip in the morning as he walked through the door.  
She laughed in spite of herself, but kept going. This was not going to go badly. She was just going to check on a wounded patient. She was a trained healer after all. Nothing inappropriate was going to happen. Nope, not at all.  
The sun was already almost gone when she started walking across the bridge that linked his quarters the library. The dark blue of night encroached on the burning oranges and pinks of the sky. Little stars winked out at her, waking up for their nightly vigil. The air was brisk and refreshing, blowing in from the mountain peaks still full of snow. This place was as much a place of peace as it was a fortress. So much calm. She was grateful for it all.  
Resettling her pack on her shoulder, she knocked on the huge wooden door of Cullen's quarters, just to let him know she was coming in. She wouldn't want him to get too comfortable. It was so amusing to see him flustered when she caught him off guard.  
He was sitting at his desk, wearing his plain shirt and bent over so many reports it looked like an avalanche of paper might threaten the keep. A lamp rested on the desk near him, giving off a warm glow. He looked serious and tired. Rumpled and uncomfortable out of his armor. It was adorable.  
"The nursemaid is here to check on her grumpiest patient," she said as she walked through the door.  
His scowl greeted her. "I don't need anything else. I feel perfectly fine."  
"Really? Then you don't have muscle soreness coupled with a massive headache, do you?"  
His bottom lip took a decidedly stubborn edge. "No."  
"Liar," she said easily as she put down her pack and started taking out salve and bandages. "Now, put your papers away so I can tend you."  
The wound was better, but still red and swollen. It had closed nicely and the scar would disappear in time. It was most likely still very painful, though, and attributing to soreness in the muscles in his back. And there was definite bruising which didn't look very nice at all. He was already prone to headaches, and she could see one in his eyes.  
"I am going to change the bandage and the poultice, but I'm also going to rub a healing salve on the muscles of your back to ease the soreness."  
"But I'm not-"  
"Shut up, yes you are. I'm also going to put some on your temples for that lovely headache. And I brought tea."  
"I don't like tea.”  
"Well, you'll drink my tea, and like it. Now take off your shirt." She poured him a cup of tea from the canteen in her pack and handed it to him and stood there to watch him drink it. "Drink it up, please."  
He took a sip and looked surprised. "It's delicious."  
"Yes, my teas usually are. Better to mask the taste of poisons."  
"Well, there's a frightening thought."  
She smiled. "I would never poison the commander of the inquisition's forces. I haven't any time to train a new one." Her eyes were wide and innocent.  
He chuckled. "Such a cruel hearted woman. You're lucky my men like you."  
She saw her chance and took it. "I would hope you like me as well, even if it's against your will."  
He blinked twice and his eyes wandered away from hers. "... Well, I mean, of course I do. I'm very willing to like you... Uh, I mean that I'm not unwilling... I mean, I like you just fine." He busied himself with his tea to have an excuse to stop talking.  
"'Just fine?' Well, doesn't that just get a girl's heart just racing," she said sarcastically. But not without amusement.  
He choked on his tea.  
His reaction to her flirting was extremely encouraging, but Trev took pity on him and hid her amusement behind her capable fingers. "Here," she said. "Let me apply the salve and I will leave you to your rest."  
"I still have a lot of work still to do-"  
"You either go to bed willingly and sleep a goodly amount of hours, or I knock you out and leave you on the cold stone floor to freeze. Either way, you are sleeping tonight."  
He stared at her for a moment with serious eyes and a grim expression. He knew she was not making an idle threat. As harmless as she seemed usually, she had an unholy amount of mischief in her. She could give Sera a run for her money in the crazy department, though she had an easier time hiding it. He supposed it came from a lifetime of hiding from templars. Hiding her personality and her thoughts, and then hiding from their search of her after she escaped. She never did speak of her time in the circle all that much. And all he did know was that she joined a mercenary band and trained as an assassin in order to hide. That's how she had ended up at the conclave. And then it had exploded and she had woken up with a glowing green hand and her freedoms taken from her once more.  
It was sad really. She was a noble, born and bred. She should have been a scholar, fighting for what she believed in, her voice drowning out others in debate. But all of that potential had been stolen from her at the first sign of magic. He still believed in the ideals of the templar order, but he was still perversely glad she had found her freedom. A bright fire like hers was easily snuffed out under the fear and threat of possession. He had seen it all firsthand after all. Kirkwall had been a hard learned lesson to his arrogance and hatred.  
"Very well," he said, and had the unique pleasure of seeing her fierce eyes gentle. The look she gave him held such sweet affection it made him break out in a sweat, though the cool night air was coming in through the windows. Perhaps having her touch him more was a bad idea. Perhaps he could find a way out of this. But it was too late. She had picked up the salve and stood at his back.  
Her hands were hesitant at first. It had been the first time she had touched more than a square inch of him, and she seemed nervous. But that lasted for about a second. Her fingers started digging into overused muscles and soreness and all he could do was slump over as all the energy left his body. Reports didn't matter anymore. His headache didn't exist. His body was made of air. Her fingers were a gift, taking his pain and leaving him empty. All he knew was intense relief. And pleasure.  
Trev chuckled over the reluctant moan of relief that was muffled by the desk and reports. She had been right to come. If nothing resulted from her making a fool of herself in this ridiculous robe, at least he felt better. That made her heart happy.  
She pulled him up a little to get to his neck and temples, working her fingers into his curls to get to the pressure points in his skull. She doubted that he would be able to stand right now. He looked boneless. She could feel the tension from his ever present headache slipping away. There wasn't much she could do for his eyes, but she hoped that relieving the pressure in his skull would help that pain.  
"Maker, that smell brings back memories. One of the Formari at the Gallows made salve that smelled like that."  
Her hands stopped. She stood there, frozen for a moment, and then began to tremble slightly. "Oh, really?" She forced her fingers back to what they had been doing, digging in just a little harder than before. "It's a rather common recipe."  
He let out a sigh and reached for her hand. Pulled her to stand next to him and said very sincerely, "Thank you, Herald. For everything."  
She looked at his precious face and remembered the story of the warden and her king. She couldn't live like that. She wouldn't live like that.  
She squeezed his hand and answered back, "Of course, Cullen." She laughed. "It's my pleasure." She pointed at herself with her free hand. "And my name is Trev."  
“Gale Trevelyan.” He murmured her name in a warm and intimate way, making it sound more exotic and compelling than it really was. “Such a fitting name for you," He said thoughtfully. “Gale. A very strong wind or a burst of sudden sound. Anything more fitting wouldn't be polite enough to utter in polite company." He grinned, looking young and almost boyish in the lamplight.  
Her heart hit her throat and she cleared it to speak. ”Did you just make a joke? Dear Maker, is the world ending? Nugs must be sprouting wings!" Trev laughed, delighted beyond reason. "Why, Cullen, I never thought you had it in you."  
"I'll surprise you if you give me a chance."  
What happened next happened to quickly to describe in detail. Someone's hand knocked over tea, sending it sloshing across the desk and toward Trev's ridiculous robes. She grabbed the skirt and pulled it high to avoid it, but only managed to to trip herself into the arms of one Cullen Stanton Rutherford, former knight commander of the templar order and current commander of the inquisitions forces, of which she happened to the the inquisitor. Apparently there was no accounting for grace when they made that decision.  
His arms caught her and she scrambled to get off of him, worried that she would hurt him because of his wound.  
"Stop!" He barked the command as if he were speaking to a new recruit and out of pure reaction she froze. "I'm stronger than you give me credit for. Give me a moment and hold still. Your skirts are caught on my boots." The amusement in his voice made giddy little ripples go off in her insides. And yes, he was quite strong, because despite his wound, he was holding her firmly across his lap as he mopped up the mess on the desk with his discarded shirt.  
Then she was light headed and swirly because all of a sudden she was lifted up into the air as if she weighed nothing while he changed his hold on her and stood up.  
"The desk is dry, thankfully only a few papers were lightly wetted. I'm going to put you down and attempt to untangle you. All right?"  
Trev had no voice. She had no control over her muscles and bones. There was no way she could answer without sounding like a complete idiot. He gently deposited her on top of his desk and bent down slightly to save her skirts from his armor. His curls brushed her nose a moment and he smelled of sweat and healing salve. And for some reason her lungs couldn't get in enough air. He stood, the now freed hem in his hand and held it out to her for her inspection.  
"Is it irreparable?" He asked.  
As if she would know! She took it from him and ended up bunching the skirts up in her hands. "I'm sure its fine. I don't wear robes much."  
"Indeed." His eyes wandered over her. The thing was soft, sleeves generous. The color of polished pewter. It was cinched in at the waist by some sort of female contraption that made her waist curve more and pushed her breasts up. Her generous skirts were gathered in her hands, around her thighs. Her thick braid was over her shoulder and hung off his desk, mixing with her skirts. Her eyes were wide and soft. He couldn't stop himself. He found himself leaning in, lured by the heat under her skin. Her eyes were fluttering closed when the door opened and booted feet stomped their way in.  
"Cullen, I need to- Oh!" Cassandra stopped short and stared. Cullen stood ramrod straight, his hands going behind his back. But there was no helping it. The display they both made was quite misleading. His hair was disheveled and he was shirtless. The herald on his desk with her skirts around her thighs. Cassandra's jaw dropped to the floor. She then turned on her heel and marched out without a backward glance.  
"Uhhhhhh..." all of the blood in Trev's body fled to her face. She jumped down and grabbed her pack.  
"Wait, herald-"  
  "Drink your tea and go to bed!" she yelled as she fled out of his office.


	5. Cullen Remembers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a memory, and since there are no read editing options on AO3, I can't italicize anything to make it look different. I've put a space in-between and hopefully that will help you differentiate it. This chapter has been edited.

Cullen was lying in bed drifting off to sleep when the music reached his ears.   
It wasn't so bad to be coddled. And he knew that he would be able to sleep tonight because Trev had tended him so well. For the first time in a long while he felt almost comfortable in his own skull. But that didn't help with what had happened right before Cassandra had walked in on them. Or what might have happened.  
He wasn't an expert in dealing with women. But you would have to be blind, deaf and dead not to have known what that one moment would have led to if they had not been interrupted.   
What did she want? Was this even possible? There were too many variables. Either of them could die very easily. It was too confusing and uncertainties made him uncomfortable. Even so he knew that the vision she had made while perched on his desk was going to haunt him.  
He was remembering the sight of strong shoulders, soft skin, and very inspiring cleavage, when something tickled at his senses.   
Faint, like a memory, a fiddle, beautifully played by quick fingers and joy. He knew that music. How could he ever forget it? It had changed his life. He remembered the girl. Kind smiles, delicate features, patient temperament. It was a good memory that pulled him into sleep, and he followed that music into his dreams.  
The next morning he had awoken without a headache. Had the music been real, he wondered. Had it all just been a dream? He had heard it before he had fallen asleep, he was sure. Just a memory? So strange. He wondered what happened to that girl from so long ago.  
     Through the day, whenever he moved, he would smell the healing herbs in his bandages. The last person to give him that salve had been her, that girl. He hadn't thought about her in a long time. And now her memory sparked form everything around him.  
    Cullen sat back and closed his eyes for a moment. The words in the reports he was reading had started blending together in a massive jumble. It had been a few days since the inquisitor had left to root out Venatori influence, and most likely loot everything not nailed down. The reports were pouring in of rifts closed and influence gained. She was an efficient little hellion, he'd give her that. If not a bit violent. He found himself chuckling over that. She lived fiercely and without regret. Her freedom gave her so much joy. It suited her.  
    The girl from his memory had no such opportunity. They were so different, like night and day.  
If only she had had the gift of freedom. He hoped she was well. That she was safe. Though he had seen what had become of the mages in Kirkwall. It gave him little hope that she was still alive. He hadn't even known her true name to be able to find her again. Though he wouldn't really know what to do with her now. Hopefully her family was powerful and devout enough to be able to protect her when the mage wars started. So many memories. He had not been so kind back then…

    Knight commander Meredith was in a rage. The day had gone on normally enough. A slight spat with Orsino had rounded out her morning, and the familiarity of it soothed the annoyance. But the missive from the Ostwick Circle of mages had changed it all.  
    There were no healers of note in Kirkwall's Gallows, but they had excellent potion makers, it seemed. Because the missive was a request to allow one of their mages to come and study with one of their Formari. Actually, it wasn't so much a request as a warning. The mage student was coming to study, wether Meredith liked it or not, and if anything happened to the student while in her care, she would pay for it. Painfully.  
    The missive implied that the student was the member of a noble house. That she was being groomed to become a court mage. The noble family she was related to was very powerful and could make all their lives very uncomfortable if anything happened to their child. Meredith had little choice to accept this mage for study and had to make sure that absolutely nothing happened to her during her stay in the Gallows.  
    But it rankled. Being told what to do by the First Enchanter of another circle? It was more than vexing.  
    She called Cullen into her office and explained the situation. She assigned him the task of watching the mage while she was there. She knew Cullen's past and his distrust and paranoia concerning mages made him more trustworthy than the other templars in her command. If this mage become possessed or practiced blood magic, he would be the first to point it out. Meredith's disgust was extremely evident. When she called Orsino into her office and explained the situation to him he thought it was amusing as hell and didn't even say anything sarcastic, which was bad enough to put Meredith into an even worse mood.  
    When the mage arrived, she was flanked by guards. All templars, all in shining armor. She wore expensive robes and an Orlesian court mask. At first it was a bit shocking to Meredith when she realized how important this mage was. To her, mages weren't even human. This one was more dangerous than any blood mage. This one had more power than any of the mages in the Gallows would ever handle. If anything happened to her, a war would most likely break out.  
    When her guard was leaving, the mage politely bowed to them all and thanked them for escorting her. She wished them a safe journey back to Ostwick and told them that she would be most glad to see them again when they returned for her. It was obvious that she was used to them and had known them for a while. Perhaps all her life. The templars bowed in return and wished her well with more affection in their voices than any templar should have for a mage. Both Meredith and Cullen were perturbed by this. The mage was introduced to them with only her first name, Isadora, and no other explanation of her family given.  
    One of her guard, Maya, had stayed behind with her. She would be her exclusive guard. Meredith intimated to Cullen that he would have to watch them both, in case her guard were under some sort of enchantment. It became very obvious fairly quickly that the templar guard was under no enchantment and she had little patience for Meredith's meddling. Though she treated Cullen with kindness and familiarity. Keeping him from finding out too much about her ward than absolutely necessary, while encouraging him to open up to her. She was forthright and kind. With a will made of iron and a ready smile. She herself must have come from nobility because no one wore such surety upon their shoulders without believing it was their right to do so.  
    It confused Cullen a bit. Little by little he was coming out of his mage hating haze, and watching this girl and her templar guard was making him feel very odd. The mage was a lady, of gentle rearing and fine education. She would rise early and have tea while reading a book in the courtyard so she could watch the stars fade and the sun rise. She would apply herself seriously to her magical and mundane studies until they were over and then spend the quiet hours after dinner doing needlework or some such other useless female hobby until it was time for bed. Then she would find another book to read. And how she devoured books. Her room went from being completely spotless to having piles and piles of books everywhere within a few weeks. And when she was done, she would share them with anyone else who wanted one as well. In retrospect, her access to money was terrifying.  
    She helped in the gardens, growing herbs and preparing them for potions or healing poultices. She made teas for the Formari to sell, a basket even showing up on Meredith's desk with a note in lovely curving script thanking her for her hospitality. Meredith threw it in the fire and then for a week her office smelled of sweet healing herbs. It did little to dim her irritation.  
    What really affected Cullen, though, was the music lessons, given to her by her own bodyguard. They would go into the courtyard and Maya would put her through her paces on a fiddle that looked like it was worth more than the entirety of the high district in Kirkwall. Her fingers were quick and the sound was melodic and pure. She pulled the Maker's tears from those strings and all of the agony that Cullen held in his heart slowly started disappearing. Isadora was a kind, sweet, quiet girl. Proper and polite. She never tried to approach him, or any of the other templar's inappropriately. She was helpful and generous and never caused any kind of trouble. If confronted with anger or insolence, she only met it with compassionate words and honest eyes. But in those moments when she played, all of her emotions came to the fore. There was sadness and fear, loneliness and resignation. But above it all was resilience and an irrepressible yearning. Even her joy was fleeting, a great, overwhelming thing that graced the ears with excitement and taxed the emotions with a flurry until it ended abruptly and kept you wanting more. It was more than obvious that she loved her instrument and enjoyed it immensely. And it was also obvious that within her lived something that wanted to burst through her quietness and live life fiercely. But fierce was not her destiny and she had come to terms with it at an early age. So she lived fiercely though her music and lived quietly once it was put away. It was a shame really.  
    The general populace had slowly started coming to watch whenever Isadora practiced. They appreciated her music very much. Little by little she became something of a wonder for everyone in Kirkwall. A young, masked, girl with such sweetness and charm that even the most prolific of mage haters considered her a gem. Even Meredith was known to open her windows when Isadora was at practice. Though she would never admit that she liked the music. That damn smell just wouldn't leave her office.  
    After a while her training was at an end and it was time for her to return to Ostwick. She gave away all the books in her room and spent precious time saying goodbye to all the friends she had made in the Gallows. Another basket of herbal tea showed up on Meredith's desk and this time it ended up in teapots instead of the fireplace. Cullen too found a gift, after she had left, waiting for him in his quarters. The note simply said that she was grateful for his help and that she had not gotten to know him very well, but she believed him to be a good man. She wished him a good life, because she believed he deserved it. The gift she left him was a jar of beeswax mixed with healing herbs and oils. To sooth the mind and body, she said. For headaches and sore muscles. He used it sparingly, and gratefully. She had not cured him of the nightmares of the Fereldan circle, but she had eased his trauma and hate of mages with her kindness. That was the gift he treasured more.


	6. Cassandra Makes a Suggestion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter has been edited.

Cassandra couldn't take it anymore. It wasn't Dorian's very loud and vocal praise of himself, or even Varric's know it all sarcasm that had her annoyed. It was the Herald. She was calm, quiet, well behaved, and introspective. It was terrifying. Either the Maker was coming to kill them all, or something was terribly wrong. She decided to confront her when they made camp for the night.  
    She followed Trev to a small reed filled pond where she was going to gather water. She watched as she bent down to fill their canteens and then just crouched there, staring into space. A canteen did not need that much time to be filled. The only warning Trev had of the Seeker's approach was a highly disgruntled noise.  
    "Are you dying?" Cassandra asked plainly.  
    "What? No. What do you mean?” Trev was genuinely confused by the warriors abrupt question, and a bit amused. She laughed through her puzzled grin of surprise.  
    "You've been very quiet and absurdly well behaved since we left Skyhold. You didn't even make a sarcastic comment when Dorian tried to buy those hideous shoes from that traveling merchant we ran across on the road."  
    Trev’s grin softened a little with affection. "They were abysmal. Why would he even try to buy them?"  
    "He knows there's something wrong with you and was trying to get you to snap out of it. We all do. Now, tell me truthfully. Are you dying? Because that is the only explanation I can think of to explain your bizarre behavior."  
Trev’s brow arched. ”Not being sarcastic and bloodthirsty is bizarre behavior?"  
Cassandra’s voice as woefully annoyed as she said, ”For you it is."  
Trev sighed a little. She knew that under all that bluster lived the heart of a true hopeless romantic. Perhaps Cassandra would understand. It was becoming so hard to hold it in when all she wanted to do was pour her heart out to someone who would listen and then tell her what to do.  
"It's not an issue of my health, Cassandra. It's an issue of the heart." She plopped herself down on the ground next to the pond and looked out at the reeds and fireflies. The sky was deepening into a velvety deep blue, and the fireflies dancing through the reeds looked like emerging stars, glittering over the water.  
Cassandra had a moment to choose. Walk away and avoid the personal problems of her sworn leader, or hear from the horse's mouth what was going on between her and Cullen. Which, admittedly, had been equal parts terrifying and exciting to both sides of her personality. In the end she told herself that a true friend would not abandon someone in need, and sat beside her.  
They shared a quiet moment for a while, allowing Trev to gather her thoughts. And when she finally spoke, it was with openness and a sense of fragility.  
"I love him, Cassandra. I love Cullen." She had never really said those words out loud before. Saying them helped her own them and helped steady her heart.They also terrified her to death.  
The rejoining grunt was thoughtful and encouraging. Comforting.  
Trev wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on them. ”But I shouldn't."  
Cassandra’s eyes widened in reaction. ”Why ever not? I will admit that there will be a lot of talk about the Inquisitor romancing the commander of the inquisitions forces. But that petty gossip would circle whether he were a king or a farmer."  
"It's not him that's the problem. It's me."  
Cassandra's brow raised in inquiry.  
"You remember when the crazy lot of you decided to make me the Inquisitor, yes? How terrified I was. I didn't want it. I still don't."  
"An aversion to responsibility-"  
"Is not my problem.” Her voice was strong, brooking no argument. A strength she mostly kept to herself. “I wanted a simple life. Of freedom and wandering. Nothing to tie me down. No one relying on me but my horse and myself. That whole Herald of Andraste business makes me teeth ache." She hid her face in her gathered knees. "I can't be noticed. I can’t be in charge. If the chantry found out... no. Just no. I was so sure when I saw Cullen again that my life was over. I cant believe he doesn't recognize me."  
There was another moment of silence. Very confused and grouchy silence.  
"You knew him from before? Where? How?” Cassandra said quietly.  
"We met in the gallows. Years ago."  And then Trev sat there and told a story she had never told anyone before. Ever.  
"I was just a girl who had gone to study," she said. "And there he was. Broken and sad. And so angry. I wanted to save him from himself. But I couldn't."  
She had only been about 15 when she had gone to the Gallows. She had known all about the problems there. Orsino himself had corresponded with her when she had inquired about studying there. She had decided to go anyway because she had wanted to test herself. And her life was so dull. She figured that if anything happened to her, at least her family would rip the Gallows apart and the mages would have a chance to start over. She had never expected to actually survive the journey, or be allowed to leave without a fight. And she had most certainly never expected to find him there.  
    Had she fallen in love with him back then? Probably not. Perhaps she had just understood his damage and wanted to soothe it somehow. But she had not been in a position to do so, and it would have been a death sentence to approach him at all. Her sister had done her best to speak to him for her. To encourage him to let the past go and move forward with hope and surety. Trev had never known if it had actually worked. If he had done so.  
    "Then the conclave exploded and I woke up with a glowing green hand, a hole in the sky and who do I meet?" she said. "The broken boy that I had never forgotten. And not only was he not a boy anymore, he had become the very thing I knew he could be. It was absolutely mazing and I had wanted so very much to tell him so."  
     But she was no longer that child and her identity had to be kept a secret. No one could know who she was or who she was related to. Her mother had sacrificed a lot to see to her freedom. As had her father. She was Trev, the reluctant Herald of Andraste, and the Inquisitor. Anyone else she used to be would just put the people she loved in danger.  
    Cassandra was fascinated. Her romantic heart couldn't stop beating wildly and she fought hard to keep herself from sighing at the poetic hopelessness of it all. To think such a story was unfolding before her! It was more than her daydreams could ever have imagined.  
    "But who are you," she asked.  
    "I cannot say. You more than anyone know the burden we carry as nobility. As... more than nobility." Trev brushed the stray tendrils on her face behind her ears and implored her eagerly. "Please trust me when I say that no one needs to know and that it would cause more harm than good if anyone were to find out. I am Trevelyan. That is all anyone needs to know."  
    Cassandra stared at her with cold eyes for a moment, her romantic nature overridden by her seeker convictions. "It is true that I do know the struggle of overcoming what your birth demands you to accept. I dislike subterfuge."  
    "I know. You are ever an honest woman, seeker. But you have also been a good friend. Will you please keep my secret, and I promise that one day I will tell you the whole truth of it?"  
    "I... suppose."  
    Trev threw her arms around the Seeker's shoulders and squeezed her tight. "Thank you,  thank you!" she chanted, happily. A highly disgusted noise was her response, and Trev chuckled and gave her one last squeeze. She felt better.  
    "If I am allowed to make a suggestion?" Cassandra's accent was a little deeper. As if the hug had embarrassed and pleased her at the same time.  
    "I'll take all the help I can get!" Trev declared.  
    "Well, when I walked into that office the other night, it did not look like Cullen was as uninterested as you might fear."  
    Trev felt herself turning into a tomato.  
    "Perhaps he is uncertain. You both have precarious positions. You both face danger every day."  
    "Yes?"  
    "Why don't you do something to make him feel more wanted. And not just in a physical sense. As if he, his mind and essence, matter to you just as much as the physical aspect of attraction does."  
    "You have my avid attention."  
    Cassandra smiled and explained her idea.


	7. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been edited (and will be edited again when I have more time).

Cassandra had suggested that the Inquisitor write Cullen a letter. Just something to let him know that he was present in her thoughts. Trev hadn't really gotten over her aversion to embarrassment, yet. So how was she supposed to write a letter that intended to catch his interest without actually stating her interest in his interest.   
Maker, did that even make any sense?  
She had agonized over that letter. Start official, she thought. Make it look like a normal report I would usually send and then try to make it a little more personal. She wanted to be subtle about it but she was as subtle as Bull when faced with a dragon. Maker, she'd rather fight a dragon than deal with this shit. So she agonized and she outlined and late at night when the others were resting she would sit and scribble out rough drafts of The Letter. And then promptly burn them. When it was finally done, she sealed it with shaking fingers and forced herself to give it to one of Leliana's scouts. When it was finally gone, she felt relief and a curious sense of dread. As if she were falling into a hole with no purchase and no bottom. This is it, she thought. This letter is the beginning of everything.  
When they had started on their way back, Cassandra had done her awkward best to keep her spirits up and encourage her. It helped, but she was still nervous. By the time they reached the entrance to the keep, her hands were shaking with nerves and her breathe rattled a bit. The rain didn't help, either. But it helped to give an excuse to her jitters.  
It had been weeks since they left Skyhold. All Trev wanted to do was take a long bath and steal some of Bull's chocolate. She also wanted to see if that letter had reached Cullen. He had never answered her back and she was afraid that it was because he hadn't wanted to. She hoped that it was just that he had been too busy. He was always busy. Maybe he hadn't found time to do it. Maybe it wasn't that he just didn't want to. All these uncertainties were very annoying.  
She decided that after her bath, she was going to go see him. Perhaps 'confront' was too strong of a word, but she was going to make her case to him and finally get everything out that she needed to say. That little episode on his desk gave her hope that he saw her as more than just a mage. He hadn't really touched her or anything, but there was leaning. He had leaned.  
When they finally made it into the courtyard, she dismounted and gave the lead of her horse to Master Dennet. It was too late to really do any kind of proper debriefing, and it was raining hard enough to drown a bevy of cats. Spring was definitely on its way.  
She made her way to the grand hall, grasping her cloak more firmly around her against the rain. Josie needed to speak to her, and the whole thing took about ten minutes. Trev boots felt like blocks of ice by the time she left.  
Varric was at his usual spot, a table right in front of a roaring fire and he called her over. They were both from warmer climates and she couldn't blame him for hogging a fire all to himself.  
"I made sure to save you some food, Windy."  
"That nickname is so ridiculous, Varric. You do realize my name literally means windy?"  
"Why mess with a good thing? Besides, it does suit you quite perfectly."  
She laughed. "Yes, Cullen said that to me the other day, too."  
"He did?" Varric's deep voice was full of laughter. "Maybe Curly isn't as dense as I thought he was." He took a drink from his mug. "You gonna go see him later?"  
"I was thinking after I had a bath. But the rain isn't letting up and I'll just get soaked again if I go outside."  
"No, you should go. Don't worry about the bath thing." She barely heard him mutter under his breath, "Its not like that room he sleeps in has a proper roof, anyway."  
"Hmmm?"  
"Nothing, nothing. Just go say hi to him. I'm sure he needs the break."  
"He does usually forego his sleep in lieu of work, doesn't he?"  
"You should go yell at him about resting more. It'll do him good."  
She stood and shook out her cloak. Perhaps just a small hello would be all right. He would see that she was willing to come see him, even when it was bad outside. It might make him think nicer of her. And she could make sure he was well. "You aren't as subtle or as sneaky as you think you are, Varric."  
"Maybe not, but I do pretty well for myself."  
She laughed. "Yes, you do."  
She went through Solas's office again. He was engrossed with a magical text and didn't even notice her passing. The rain had let up some, but it was no warmer than before. Fog was slowly starting to form, making everything look hazy and mysterious. It was a pleasant scene for her. She loved moody things.  
Without knocking, she threw the door open, and walked in. Only to stop short in shock. There stood Cullen, his armor gleaming like gold in the lamplight, with some hussy firmly attached to his face. He saw Trev and shoved the girl away from him, but she wouldn't let him go and tried to snuggle closer to him with a mewling protest.  
The inquisitor took a breathe as if she were choking, and turned, moving swiftly back into the rain.  
Some time later, Cullen sat at his desk with his head in his hands. The headache behind his eyes was beating a tattoo of pain the likes his face had never felt before. He felt miserable. That damned chit had come into his office and thrown herself at him so quickly, he hadn't been able to react from the shock. Then the inquisitor had walked in, a smile on her face and he had froze. And that damned girl had had the gall to act like she had been interrupting them. The hurt in the inquisitor's eyes killed him. His patience had ended when she rushed back out the door. He had thrown that girl off of him and barked at her to get the hell out and never come near him again.  
Dammit, what a mess.  
The urgent banging on his door had him jumping to his feet. Cassandra barged in without being invited inside, her face a mask of anger.  
"Whats the matter?"  
"Was the inquisitor here? Did something happen to upset her?"  
He had no idea how to even articulate a proper answer to that question. "Why, has something happened?"  
"She set the courtyard on fire."  
He stared at her, nonplussed. "But it's raining!"  
"Aren't you paying attention? She's a mage. You think Magical fire cares about rain?" She had a stern look in her eye. "What did you do?"  
"What did I do? Why is this my fault?"  
"The courtyard is on fire in the middle of a bloody rainstorm! Of course it's your fault!" Her anger and annoyance made her accent even more pronounced.  
"Is it being dealt with, where are the templars?"  
"They are having a hard time dealing with it." Cassandra leaned against the stone wall and crossed her arms. "They are saying the magic is very resistant to their abilities."  
"How is that possible?"  
"Well, she was very angry."  
He dropped back into his chair with a huff. "It was a misunderstanding. I would've explained, but she left too quickly for me to follow." He very briefly explained what happened in as few words as possible.  
"I cannot believe you would allow that to happen, Cullen! No wonder she is so upset. And I encouraged her to write to you." She shouted with indignation on her friend's behalf.  
"What do you mean?" He hadn't received anything from the inquisitor, had he? He looked at all the unopened missives piled on his desk. What had been in that letter?  
"Never mind," Cassandra said with disgust. She strode up to him and caught his hand. "We have to do something about this fire. It refuses to be put out. We may have to find her so that she can do it."  
Oh, Maker. That was going to go over well. Cullen felt so guilty and helpless. At any other time, in any other circumstance, perhaps her reaction would have pleased him. To know that she cared that he was with another woman. But he feared that this may have destroyed the fragile bond they had been building. What a mess, he thought again. A hellish mess.  
The fire was a massive nightmare that reached the sky and singed the ground. But it seemed to be contained to its own space, not touching any buildings or crates. It just burned in fury, the heat so intense that approaching it would surely cause skin to blister. And like Cassandra said, it was resistant to templar abilities. How that was possible was beyond him. Perhaps it was some sort of fade magic. Whatever it was, they would have to find the inquisitor for her to put it out.  
She wasn't far. She was sitting at Varric's table, eating everything in sight. Varric was watching with great interest, and a little fear, as she made her way through portions only Bull could have eaten without exploding. She was indeed angry. So very, very angry. At one point she used her fork to stab a piece of meat to death again as she brought it to her plate. Leliana and Josephine were standing there, speaking urgently. Most likely trying to convince her to dissipate the raging cone of fire in the courtyard. As he and Cassandra approached, however, both Leliana and Josephine's eyes turned to him with anger and something akin to blame.  
Trev stood suddenly when she saw him. "Fine," she said, and made her way to the stone steps that led to the courtyard. She stared at the fire for a moment, took a breathe, concentrated, and then suddenly the fire disappeared as if it had never existed. The only evidence it left behind was a burn mark on the ground.  
"How did you do that? That was amazing." Cassandra's voice was full of awe.  
"Easy. Fire needs air to feed it." She looked straight at Cullen and said, "I simply removed the air until it died."  
Cullen blinked. She then turned and left them standing there in the rain. Four pairs of eyes stared at him accusingly.  
A soldier came up to Cullen, looking a bit nervous. "Uh, excuse me ser, but there’s something you should see."  
"What is it?" What more could it possibly be. If a dragon and come to eat him, he would have gladly and willingly gone, at this point.  
"Well, it's the burn mark sir. It, uh, well it says something."  
Curious, Cullen, Josephine, Leliana, Cassandra, and Varric went to investigate. And just like the soldier said, in very neat and large script, two words were burned into the ground where the fire had been.

FUCK. YOU.


	8. Cullen Finds the Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been edited.

She hadn't waited to rest. She had immediately left the next morning, and there was nothing he could do about it.  
    Josephine had gotten to the bottom of what happened in Cullen's office. Apparently the girl was the daughter of a visiting noble who had a thing for men in positions of power who wore shiny armor. The father tried to bluster and accuse, but upon taking one look at Cullen's face, decided better against pissing off the inquisition because his daughter was an idiot. He had given Josephine everything she asked for, and left forthwith, daughter in tow. It was a relief to have that situation dealt with, but there was still the issue of Trev.  
    He had found the letter she had sent him. It had fallen and wedged underneath his desk. That was why he had never seen it. He had thrown everyone out and demanded he not be disturbed. Then he had climbed up to his room and hunkered down to read it.  
      
‘We met with Hawke and her warden contact. Apparently there is something influencing the wardens unnaturally, and they are doing questionable things either because they are being compelled by it or through their own fear. I have written to both Leliana and Josephine and told them we need more eyes on the ground in the area.’

    It seemed like a normal report. Grey wardens at Adamant, Hawke, possible Venatori influence. But then the tone of the letter started to change subtly.

‘I want you to make sure that you rest. I know you love your work, but you must take care. Your wound may be healed, but that does not mean that your body hasn't suffered a shock from it. When I return I will make sure to come and check on you again. I do not like the headache you carry behind your eyes. I will make more salve and you will make sure to carry it with you for when you need it.’

    He smiled to himself and kept reading her scolding words. He could practically hear her voice chiding him, as the letter devolved into threats of his person if he didn't listen to her wise and gentle advice.  
    But then the tone changed completely. It became more personal, more confiding.

‘How did I even win that chess game with you? You must have let me. I hadn't any bloody clue what I was doing at all. I barely know the rules of the game. You can't tell me I won on my own merit, you cheat. And yes, letting someone else win is cheating for the other person, and I won't stand for it.’  
    He began to chuckle. He had done no such thing and had been amazed that she had been so skillful at chess. He had no idea what kind of tactic she had been using during their first game. Apparently winging it worked just as well on a chessboard as it did in the real world. For her at least. He went back to the letter.

‘You need to properly teach me. Tactics are your thing, after all. I just know how to blow things up and set them on fire.’

    His smile dimmed from the memory of the previous night, but she was correct. It was a particular skill she excelled at.

‘But tactics bore me so much, so I don't know how good of a student I would be to you. That being said, I wanted your advice on an important matter. I know that you are Fereldan and I had a fantastic idea I wanted your opinion on.’

     Oh, no.

‘What if we acquired a few mabari? They would have to be puppies of course.’

    Of course. He groaned out loud in mental suffering.

‘I can think of nothing finer than my troops having trained war dogs march with them into battle. It would boost morale, greatly! And since you are Fereldan, you can arrange it.’

    Could he, he thought sarcastically. Maker's breathe, this woman was mad. A bunch of mabari puppies running around without a proper trainer would be absolute mayhem. He would have to recruit a kennel master if she actually wanted to go through with this potential disaster.

‘Do you think one might imprint on me? I find the idea intriguing. I love dogs and I've never had the pleasure of having one of my own. The circle never allowed it and when I was a mercenary I never wanted to put an animal in harm's way. It would be so nice to have something warm to hold onto at night. Sleeping by myself is lonely.’

    He suddenly felt his heart clench.

‘Not that all of you aren't wonderful, or anything! I am so grateful to have so many friends. I've never felt like I belonged anywhere, not really. Not until I found you.’

    He had to read that line twice. Did she mean him, specifically, or the inquisition? And was he being an idiot for hoping it was him?

‘You know how I feel about this herald/inquisitor nonsense, though. I still think you're all a bunch of idiots for picking me. But I guess I keep all of you on your toes. You're all so boring without me. I could never abandon you to your terrible fate without my charming presence in your life.’  
    He had thought that once. That life had been quite dull without her interfering, sarcastic, bossiness. Apparently she'd been taking a few lessons from Dorian on humility, as well.

‘I am sorry if I am a bit difficult. I got into the habit of being contrary. Its addictive. I hope that I don't drive you to think unkindly of me. I respect you greatly and, what was it you said to me? I like you 'just fine.’’

    He barked out a surprised chuckle.

‘I hope that going forward we can be closer. Let's have another game of chess when I return to Skyhold and this time I'll let you win. And perhaps I can make you more tea. I won't poison it this time, either. Maybe.’

She had signed it with all her titles, which had been crossed out. Underneath that she had just simply signed her name. Trev.  
    Now he knew why Cassandra had been angry. The inquisitor was not the kind of person to speak so openly about herself and how she felt, truly felt. Her sarcastic nature hid a wealth of feeling she held close. And she had done her best to open up to him. To show him that she thought of him differently than the others. That she wanted to pursue this sweet feeling that had started to build between them. She was not of a trusting nature, but she was willing to take a chance on him.  
    And it had all gone to hell in a moment. He could blame that ridiculous woman all he wanted, but in the end it was his fault as well. He could have said something. He could have reached out. But his uncertainties had kept him from doing so, and thus he had put the responsibility on her shoulders. And in the end his wariness had cost him something infinitely more precious than his pride.  
    There had to be some way to make this right.  
    They had taken her from the life she had carved out for herself and made her serve the greater good against her will, glowing green hand or not. He saw the panic that being the herald brought out in her. The need to flee or go mad. And when they had chosen her as inquisitor, the tears in her eyes hadn't been moved emotion, but outright fear. And they had gone on with their duties, just expecting her to do hers without question. But she was alone. And she still felt the fear and need to flee. But she ignored it and did what was right. If she could overcome her fears, he could do the same. He didn't think he deserved her, but if she would have him, he would do his damnedest to make himself worthy of her.  
He put down the letter and used the ladder to get to his office below. He was going to write her a letter, and hope that he could somehow mend the damage between them. But first he was going to find her a puppy.


	9. a Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been edited.

She was exhausted. It wasn't that she'd been dragging her heart behind her everywhere she went. At least not entirely. She was just so bloody angry. She had always been capable of controlling her emotions when she had been in the circle. It had been life or death, really. Calm mages didn't get cut down by sharp blades. Or made tranquil, which was like being dead, but your body just didn't know it yet. She had feared the tranquil mark more than anything. It took away your mind and soul and left you an empty shell. So she had been quiet and calm. But she had changed so much since escaping that life.  
She had learned how to speak up. Do what she wanted, despite the fear. Learned how to feel. And once that door had opened, there was nothing that could control that floodgate of emotion. She thrived on all of them, the good and the bad. To feel was a privilege she had never been allowed. And it was priceless. The only drawback now was that she would get so worked up sometimes that she couldn't control her reactions to things.  
She'd snuck back into Skyhold, up the wall and over the roofs. A couple of guards had seen her, and had pretended not to. They were used to her climbing and skulking at this point. She didn't want to be seen by anyone, and she appreciated their silence.  
She made it to her room and threw the balcony doors open to let in the mountain air. Spring had settled in quite nicely, and though there was still snow on the mountains, the sun had warmed and the breeze was less frigid. A fire was burning, and her bed had been turned down. Someone knew she was back, probably Leliana, and had made sure to get things ready for her. She wasn't used to such kindness. Being able to rely on people was a blessing. The memory of Cullen and that woman flashed through her mind. It was also a burden.  
To distract herself, she went to her desk and found all sorts of notes and letters waiting for her. One was from the Trevelyans, about thirty were from Sera, another one from Dorian, then Josie. And the last was from Cullen. She was tempted to throw it in the fire. But she knew better than to throw something that could be potentially important away. He was the commander of her army, after all. She didn't trust herself to read it just yet, though. So she set it aside and tackled the others in the pile.  
The letter from the Trevelyans was full of affection. Just an update of family activities and expressions of concern. Offers of shoes, clothes, food, and other basic amenities along with assurances of good health coupled with demands for visits. She quickly penned an answer back, promising a visit as soon as it was safe and assuring everyone of her good health. She missed them all very much. Being a mage had kept her from seeing them as much as she would have liked. Being the inquisitor had not helped matters more.  
Sera's notes were full of drawings of jars of bees in very uncomfortable proximity with drawings of butts. Her usual sing song gibberish was an ode to insanity. And bees, it would seem. Moving right along, she picked up Dorian's note. She chuckled after scanning the first few lines. After congratulating himself for his genius and hard work, he was most pleased to inform her that he had been able to track down some reliable information on the crazy mage turned darkspawn, Corypheus. Maybe. He had sent a letter back to Tevinter to ask for help from a scholar friend who might be able to corroborate his findings. If anything turned up, she would be the first person he told. And also she owed him a drink, and most likely new clothes. Living in the wilds was so traumatizing without a suitable wardrobe.  
She had to keep her eyes from getting stuck in the back of her skull as she set his letter aside and picked up Josie's. He was such an arrogant ass. It was part of his charm, and he knew it.  
She turned her attention to Josie's note and stopped breathing. She read it twice. Then a third time. One part in particular was her favorite.

‘And don't worry about the burn marks in the courtyard. A group of recruits took their free time and planted flowers and herbs there, surrounding it with decorative stones from the keeps crumbled walls. It's actually quite pretty. The soldiers have started calling it 'the commander's garden.' And the added fact that it's within full view of Cullen's quarters has caused an amusement that won't abate for some time.’

Trev put the letter back on her desk and laughed. And kept laughing. She laughed so hard the muscles in her sides and stomach started to rebel. She had no breathe left and had to rest her head on her desk. The commander's garden, she thought. That was more than perfect.  
Feeling more charitable now, she reached for his letter.  
An hour later she was at his door, staring it down like an enemy on the battlefield. In the end, neither of them won. So she pushed forward and slowly walked into Cullen's office.  
"Inquisitor!" He stumbled to his feet and held on to his desk as he skirted books to get to her.  
"Hello, Cullen," She said quietly. Her smile was tired. Her eyes were calm. She seemed sad, and remote. Nervous.  
"What happened when you came the last time, I didn't-"  
"I know. Josie told me."  
"Oh," he said with relief. She wasn't angry anymore. He could take that as a good sign, at least.  
"And I read your letter."  
"You did?" He swallowed visibly.  
"Yes. I- I'm sorry I overreacted so badly." She rubbed a hand up her arm in a form of comfort. She looked exhausted. "I mean, I'm not sorry I did it because you deserved it." She chuckled. "I'm just sorry I let myself get so carried away. That's all."  
He found himself laughing at her unrepentant nature. "Considering what you walked in on, I can't really blame you." His voice softened and he said gently, "You know that I would never do something so faithless."  
Her eyes searched his face. "Faithless?"  
He blushed and avoided her gaze.  
She took a deep breathe as if she were steeling herself. "Do you have some time?"  
He grew serious, ready to get back to business as usual. "Was there something you needed?"  
"I thought we could talk." She paused for a heartbeat and said, "Alone."  
"Alone?" He stumbled over the word as if it had lost all meaning. "I mean, of course."  
He held out his hand for her like a gentleman and led her to the side door of his office, only letting his hand drop when they started making their way over the battlements, slowly. They were quiet for a time, as she seemed to be lost in serious thought.  
Cullen rubbed the back of his neck self consciously and searched for something harmless to say, settling on, "It's a nice day," and promptly felt like a huge moron when she looked at him with confusion.  
"What?" she said, perplexed.  
"It's-" he tried it again, and then wisely decided to change his mind. "You had something you wished to discuss?" He tried to make his voice as serious as he could.  
Her answer was swift. "Cullen, I care for you and-" She broke off in frustration.  
His heart quickly plummeted to his feet. "What's wrong?" And please let it be something he could fix.  
"You left the templars, but can you trust mages?" She looked so earnest and worried. "Could you think of me as anything... More?"  
He took her hands in his. "I could," he said. "I mean, I do. Think of you. And what I might say in this situation." He let go of her and rubbed the side of his face, as he turned away to walk a few steps forward, thinking. Two guards passed by them on their rotation, pretending to not see them.  
Trev followed after him, and then leaned on the broken stone wall of the battlements when he turned to face her.  
"What's stopping you?" she asked softly.  
"You're the inquisitor," he said eloquently. "We're at war," his voice gentled, betraying his uncertainty, "I didn't think it was possible."  
He had moved forward slowly. Not touching her, but certainly inserting himself into her personal space. The closeness felt good. It felt warm.  
"And yet, I'm still here." The amused sarcasm had him smiling, but her serious eyes told him everything he needed to know.  
"So you are," he said, moving in even closer. "It seems too much to ask, but... I want to." His hands went to her hips. She was so much smaller than him. His hands huge on her waist, his pauldrons blocked out everything around them. Guards passed them again, probably getting the show of their lives, but neither Trev or Cullen noticed.  
He looked in her eyes, searching for the consent that this was all right, and finally leaned down. He was so close their mouths almost met when a door opened and a voice called out, "Commander!"  
The moment was broken and she let out a sigh of bitter disappointment and embarrassment. And then promptly tried to blend in with the stone at her back as much as she could.  
Cullen took an angry breath and stood ramrod straight. His hands practically vibrated with his annoyance at the interruption. He had to remind himself that Leliana would not be happy with him if he strangled one of her scouts. Though, at the moment, it would be so worth it.  
"You wanted a copy of sister Leliana's report," the scout said, walking up to them. Cullen turned to face him, incredulous that he could be so dense and not notice what was happening in front of him when that was supposed to be his job in the first place. Who recruited this idiot?  
"What?" he barked out, letting all of his annoyance and frustration out. The scout didn't notice at all and walked right up to him, missive in hand.  
"Sister Leliana's report," he repeated. "You said: 'without delay.'" And then he met the commander's eyes and froze.  
Cullen was looming over him with a look so full of anger and hatred, an entire army would have turned tail and fled. The scout felt like he had been cornered by a huge beast that was about to lunge if he didn't back away slowly. Then he noticed the inquisitor trying to blend into the wall, hiding blushing cheeks, and it suddenly dawned on him that he should very much not be there at all and he needed to remove himself forthwith. He started backing away slowly, in case any sudden movement would be his last.  
"Or to your office... Right..." and as soon as he reached the door, he turned and fled.  
Right, Trev thought. We have important things to do and I'm being selfish by taking his time. I know how he feels. That's enough.  
"If you need to-" her words were cut off when Cullen turned back to her and kissed her with more passion and enthusiasm than she would have ever given him credit for. She was stunned and flailed, having no idea where to put her hands. After a moment that didn't matter anymore. Her head started swimming and reality didn't exist anymore.  
He pulled back and said sheepishly, "I'm sorry. That was... um ... Really nice."  
Trev was most offended he had stopped what he was doing.  
"I believe that was a kiss," She said. "But I can't be sure, it's all a blur." Then she grinned.  
He laughed, absolutely delighted with her. "Yes, well..." he said and applied himself once more to task.  
More guards marched by, but they didn't notice. Soon they would have to part again and she would have to go out into the world and face more monsters. But for now, this moment was theirs. And it was perfect.


	10. An Offer of Respect and Things get Darker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last full chapter I've written. I had to skip a bit of the story to get some story line straight before writing the next chapter. There's probably three more chapters left after this one. Maybe four. This one has her freaking out because of trauma and abuse, but not so badly that it would be very triggering, I think. Still, be aware. Her character gets a little darker here on out.
> 
> Chapter has been edited.

The paperwork was driving her nuts. It seemed the better she got at her job, the more people needed things from her. How did that even make sense? Shouldn't being good at something mean that it got easier? Trev let out a huge sigh and rubbed her temples.   
She had already put her foot down with Josie about meeting nobles. That was NOT happening. She’d had to threaten to purposely insult every noble she was forced to interact with to be let off the hook. Mentioning making Sera her personal assistant also helped a great deal. Leliana had silently laughed into her gauntleted hand at the threat. Cullen had grinned in an indulgent sort of way. But Josie had turned green. And then politely acceded. Trev felt bad about hitting below the belt, but it had to be done.   
As it was, she was sure, the ambassador had somehow gotten her revenge by tripling her paperwork.   
Absently, she heard her door open and booted feet march up her stairs. No one really ever announced themselves during the day, since her quarters were also her office. She tended to lock her door when she went to bed, so people learned that if it wasn't an emergency a locked door meant no entry.   
But it was full daylight now.   
She didn't even look up. Part of her brain was rebelling at the thought of more paperwork. She didn't even want to acknowledge it. Maybe if she pretended they weren't there, they'd go away. But then the messenger cleared his throat and said her name and she forgot her stress. She forgot her papers and what she was doing.   
“Cullen,” she said, getting up and coming toward him. “Is something the matter?”  
“Not at all, inquisitor,” he replied. “I merely came to deliver these to you.” He handed her a packet of papers.  
As she scanned a few, her brow arched in confusion. Just reports about mundane things. Nothing important. “Why would you bring me this? You could have had anyone do it. They aren't important at-”  
Her words were cut off when he yanked her against his chest and covered her mouth with his. Papers went flying, unnoticed. She melted into him.  
“I wanted to see you.”  
She grinned. “Oh,” she said and pulled him down for another kiss.   
He pressed her up against her desk. Not as grand and sturdy as his. Just remembering that night had her tightening her arms around his neck. She would always be fond of desks from now on.  
“Come to my room tonight.”  
He pressed a pressed a hot kiss to her lips and gathered her closer to his body, stroking his hands up and down her back. “There is nothing I want more than to go to bed with you.” His voice was rough and his breathe was warm against her ear. “But I’m not going to.”  
She pulled back from him with wide eyes. “What do you mean? I thought that’s what you wanted.”  
“It was. It is. But I started thinking about what you said. You truly worry that I see you as some sort of evil, don't you?”  
She didn't need to answer, he could see the insecurity on her face.   
“I need to tell you something. So that you understand.”  
“What is it?”  
He took her hand and led her to the couch, and sat down with her.  
“I knew the hero of Fereldan.” He smiled, but it was sad and full of shadows. “She was at the circle when I served as a templar in Fereldan.”  
“Yes, Leliana told me that in passing once.”  
He laughed half heartedly. “If it was Leliana, I doubt it was meant in passing. You see, Amell and I… We were young and… sweet on each other.”   
Trev stared at him wordlessly. A curious feeling started forming in her heart. An acute pain she had never known existed.  
Cullen continued, filling in the sudden silence. “We knew that it wasn't allowed, but my eyes would follow her and she would blush when she noticed me looking. I was thoroughly smitten. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. And kind. Half the templars were taken with her, but she only blushed when she looked at me.” His voice had been quiet and soft, but then it changed. Disgust and self loathing evident in every syllable. “But then the circle turned into a nightmare. She came to save us and all I could do was blame her. Treat her like one of the demons she risked her life to save us from. I saw it, the hurt on her face. I took the love of an innocent girl and I stomped it into he ground. And I reveled in her pain. I enjoyed it.” He let out a long breathe and rubbed his eyes. “The things I said to her… I could spend the rest of eternity begging her for forgiveness and it still wouldn't be enough. I would still never deserve it.”   
“Are you… do you somehow see me as her? Is that way you're with me?” Trev wrapped her arms around herself in defense.  
“What? Maker, no.” His hands framed her face, thumbs tracing her cheeks. “I see you. Your fierce will, and hunger for freedom. You are a force of nature that cannot be contained. Your fire burns me and it makes me want to burn more.”   
He smiled smugly at the color staining her cheeks. “And then you get embarrassed, and it drives me crazy. You are such a contradiction.”  
He leaned in to give her another kiss and then suddenly pulled back, remembering what his original point had been. “I have seen what it’s like for a mage who is raised in a circle. The fear of trust. Not having choices. Being dictated to about your entire existence. The looming threat of being made tranquil. Love for a mage that is confined is usually hurried and secret. There is no option for a real relationship. And you were raised there. It’s probably all you know. I want you to see me differently than that.”   
“What are you trying to say, Cullen?”  
“I want to give you the choice of being with me.”  
Trev laughed. “But I want to be with you.”  
“I haven’t shown you a reason to be with me, have I? I just yell about blood magic and mages, and train soldiers. I haven't shown you how I feel or proven to you how much you mean to me. That I deserve to be with you. I probably don’t, but those things take time. I want to show you how precious, and worthy, and wonderful you are before…” he gestured toward the bed, unable to find the correct words without feeling like a fool.  
Trev smiled suddenly. It was full of amusement, relief, and a bit of joy. “Are you trying to say that you want to respect me, Cullen?” She chuckled.  
It was his turn to blush. “I can’t apologize to Amell, anymore. But I can take that experience and use it to make sure that I never, ever, give you a reason to doubt my sincerity.”  
She sighed. It was disappointing but so very sweet. No one had thought about her so kindly before. In all honesty, she was charmed. “All right, Cullen. You can respect me. But it’s still very depressing.” She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts into his chest, and kissed him. “I was so looking forward to not sleeping alone tonight. Though, you are gifting me with a singular experience.”   
“And what is that?” He leaned in for another kiss.   
“Well, I’m not going to promise to respect you.” Her smile was frighteningly mischievous. “So I get the fun of trying to corrupt a straight laced and wholesome chantry boy.”  
“I don’t suppose asking for mercy would work?”  
“Mercy? What possibly makes you think you deserve any mercy from me?”  
“I am so glad you are on our side, because that might be the most terrifying thing I've ever heard you say.” Cullen’s voice was full of laughter. He used her braid to tug her mouth back to his for an all too brief moment, before leaving her in a heap on her own couch. Useless and unable to breathe properly.  
But all too soon she had to come back to the real world. They had found the grey wardens. Some shit hole in the middle of a desert. Adamant fortress. If there was one thing she was not looking forward to, it was fighting in the sand and heat, in full armor. Whatever they were doing, she hoped it wasn't as bad as she feared. She had grown up on stories of the wardens and their griffons. She didn't want to make them as extinct as their former mounts.  
The days and weeks passed. Full of planning and strategy. Preparing troops, securing provisions, horses, armor, weapons. All the good things that make an army an army. At some point it had hit her that she most likely led one of the most terrifying and powerful empires in Thedas. Only they weren't an empire and she wasn't a ruler. The dichotomy wasn't so clear, though. Too many owed the inquisition loyalty. People, rulers, countries. They all came together under the banner of the inquisition.   
She left Skyhold several times on small missions and to do scouting. She even brought back some dragon eggs and some researcher who said he needed them for his studies. That had been amusing to explain to the council. Cullen had stared in disbelief and actually accused her of doing things to distress them all on purpose. Leliana had laughed. And Josie had gotten this frightening gleaming her eyes that was more terrifying than any dragon. Trev had found something vastly important to take her away from their meeting and run for her life. While laughing.  
They were finally a few days away from undertaking their journey to Admant. Everyone was getting in some extra training. Bull was making Krem beat him with a stick. Again. That was weird, but whatever. Dorian and Vivienne seemed to be preparing by ordering new gear. Blackwell was working on more children’s toys. It was cute, really. Varric was being Varric. And everyone else was trying to actually do their best to prepare. Except for Cassandra. Who kept breaking swords on wooden dummies. Trev had never figured out what those dummies had ever done to her. But she was sure it had to be grievous. No one could have such a grudge on an inanimate object without a really good reason.  
Trev herself had offered to train with the mages and templars. In an effort to get them working together instead of still at odds. The work was hard and thankless. But after a while they seemed to be more comfortable with each other. Working together instead of fighting each other. Mostly. Cullen did his best to help her. It had sort of turned into their little project. And since Trev had already proven that a mage could fight with more than magic, many felt emboldened to follow suit. They learned that they could be more than mages. It gave them a level of independence and confidence they had not had before. Morale was definitely improving.  
It was at the end of one of these long days that she finally made her way back to her quarters and found a letter waiting for her on her desk. It looked harmless enough. It could wait.  
She wanted a bath, and she wanted Cullen. He’d been driving her crazy with his courting. Lingering kisses in dark alcoves. Caressing fingers as she walked by grazing her in innocent places. Heartfelt goodbyes that made her feel more wanted and loved than she had ever known was possible. Always telling her to come home to him. He even ended his letters to her with it. Not that Skyhold was her home. He was. It was too terrifying to think of. But it warmed her, nonetheless.  
She poured herself a cup of mulled wine that was warming by the fire and went to take a bath. She didn't care if she was falling over. She would not be filthy when Cullen came to see her, as he had promised he would.  
She was dressed in fresh clothes and drying her long hair by the fire when she saw the letter again. She didn't want to keep working, she was just so exhausted. But ignoring important correspondence was irresponsible and could get people hurt.   
She dropped her brush on the desk and opened the missive. And then everything in her turned to ice. It was only two sentences long. And it was the most terrifying thing she had ever read.

He’s asking questions about the inquisition. Please be careful.

Everything went out of focus. She could feel herself shaking. Breathing was becoming painful. Everything she had lied about, had hidden, was coming to the fore and it was all she could do not to scream. But somehow she was watching herself lose her mind. A piece of her was lucid enough and stood back to watch while she held back her sobs and threw herself against the wall, next the her bookcase. She huddled into a ball on the floor, hugging herself and rocking back and forth.   
He was going to come and find her, and he was going to destroy everything. There was nothing she could do. Everyone was going to hate her and all the good she had tried to do with the inquisition, all the people that she had tried to help, would be betrayed and hurt. It was her fault. Everything was her fault. All she could do was sob until the tears stopped.  
This was how Cullen found her. At first he had heard the sobbing and thought she was hurt. He threw himself up the stairs to find an all too familiar scene. She looked like a scared child. What he saw was trauma. And it terrified him.   
“Love,” he said softly as he came over to kneel beside her. He had removed his armor to come see her, so he could move freely.   
She looked up at him with wide, terrified eyes. Never could he have imagined that she held so much pain and fear inside her. “He’s coming for me,” she whispered. “He’s coming to hurt me. To destroy everything.” Her voice was hoarse from the sobbing, and she was still very erratic. He didn't know if she actually realized he was there or not.  
“Who is coming? What happened to upset you?” He reached out and gently wiped the tears from her cheek with callused fingers. Then he saw the letter in her hands. She didn't fight him when he took it from her, she just sat there, staring at nothing, tears pouring from her eyes.   
“Who is coming?” he asked again, as he scanned the letter.  
“A demon. Worse than Corypheus. Full of greed, and hate, and evil.” She started rocking herself back and forth in an unconscious effort to comfort herself. “I thought I had escaped. My friend died for nothing. I killed her and she died for nothing.” Words spilled incoherently out of her mouth. She would never be a good person. She would never be free. She should have never left the circle. She should have never thought that she could have a normal life.  
Cullen grasped her upper arms and forced her to look at him through her renewed tears. “What are you talking about? Who died?”  
She looked at him as if she didn't understand why he didn't know what she was saying. “Gale died.”  
“Gale? But aren't you Gale?”  
“No…?” She stared at him, confusion on her face, when in a rush understanding, and horror, overwhelmed her. She covered her face with her hands, digging her nails into her skin in incoherent frenzy. He had to yank them away before they drew blood. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”  
“No, you’ll get mad. And you’ll hate me. You’ll tell the templars to come and take me away and they’ll take my mind and make me tranquil.” She started crying again.  
Cullen had never felt so helpless. He understood this. He had lived through his own nightmares and the emotional aftermath. It was a brand that still burned in his mind. He knew from personal experience that there was nothing he could do to comfort her. She wasn't rational, and until she could get a hold of herself, she wouldn't make any sense.  
Cullen stood and pulled off his boots, tossing them aside, while she looked on in teary eyed confusion. Then he reached for her and gently supported her as he brought her to the bed.   
He started unbuttoning her shirt and she tried to fend him off with an incoherent protest.  
He ignored her and stripped off her shirt, starting on her pants. “It’s all right. Trust me.”  
When she was naked he pulled his shirt off over his head and carefully helped her into it.  
Then he turned to the bed and tugged the blankets down. With gentle hands he helped her in, pulling the covers over her, and lay next to her. He gathered her in his arms, tunneling his fingers into her hair and rubbed the back of her head. Her ear was passed against his chest and she could hear the steady rhythm of his heart beat. Feel his pulse against her cheek. It calmed her and helped her breathe easier. In time with the rhythm.  
“Whoever you are and whatever happened to you before, we can deal with it in the morning. I’m not leaving. Just hold on to me.”  
She was silent for a moment and then said in the smallest voice he had ever hear, “Please don't hate me.”  
He squeezed her harder and assured her that he didn’t. That he never could. And she finally slept.


	11. A Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short chapter, but I promise the next couple will be posted soon. We're heading to Adamant now. I have some surprises in store!
> 
> Chapter has been edited.

Cullen didn't sleep. He slightly dozed sometime around dawn, but when the inquisitor shifted in his arms he was awake again. He had held her all night long, stroking her long hair and whispering words of comfort when her dreams disturbed her. She had been so exhausted and traumatized that she hadn't woken at all. When the sky had lightened enough, he quietly slipped out of bed and went down to look for Solas. He didn't realize he wasn't wearing a shirt. How did he always end up in compromising situations without a shirt? But that mattered very little at the moment.   
Solas had been a bit shocked, but then had jumped out of his chair the moment Cullen told him the inquisitor was unwell. Whatever contempt the elf had for humans, it seemed she had somehow earned his respect.   
He rushed to her quarters and spent a long while examining her, asking her questions in a soft and kind voice. Taking her pulse, rubbing her fingers. Checking every last little thing. Then he let her rest while he sent for food.   
"It's stress," he said. "She's not ill from any sickness or outside influence. It's all in her heart."  
Cullen couldn't really feel relieved over that, but at least her body was all right.   
"Whatever else our inquisitor may be, her secrets hurt her as much as they hurt anyone in her position. Be kind to her. She may not be able to tell you what troubles her and that may make it worse. Aside from that, she has the demeanor of a person with severe emotional trauma. Most likely stemming from her upbringing."  
"You can tell that from just looking at her?"  
"I have known her for a while and traveled with her. Spoken with her on several subjects and have had the opportunity to observe her. From her behavior I have been able to ascertain many things about her personality and how she thinks. She carries a fear of responsibility that likens itself to that of a child too fearful of failure and disappointment. An adult with such a strong personality and will such as hers does not develop that trait without reason."  
"I see." He really didn't see, at all. Who could have traumatized her so much in her childhood that fear could reduce her to such panic? His family would never have done such a thing to him.   
"Make sure she eats, and let her rest until she feels fit again. I'll let Josephine know that she is unwell and needs bed rest for a while. If you need me, do not hesitate to send for me." And then Solas left.  
Cullen was at a complete loss, but he tried very hard to care for the inquisitor, who seemed to be having a hard time talking. Or moving, really. She ate obediently enough, but when she had finished she lay back down on the bed and curled up into a tight ball. He thought maybe she had started crying again, but he wasn't sure. She made no noise. All he could really do was ignore his duties and sit with her, his hand in her hair.   
After a while there was a small knock on the door. Cullen went to answer it and found Cole on the other side of the threshold.  
"The inquisitor is ill today. She needs to rest."  
"Yes, I know. She feels guilty, and sad, and scared. What happened to her friend wasn't her fault. The real Gale, she wanted to set her free. She didn't mind dying, really. Being a Mage was too much of a burden to her. But she wanted her friend to be happy."  
Cole always made Cullen slightly uncomfortable, with him being a spirit and all. But the discomfort had lessened into more of a state of utter confusion because of how strange he was. This moment was no different.  
Cole lifted a large case from the floor and held it for Cullen's inspection. "I have a present for her. It will make her feel better. And something to help her remember."  
"Remember what?" Cullen eyed the case suspiciously.  
"Her joy," the rogue said simply.  
Cullen was torn. He didn't want to force the inquisitor to socialize, but at he same time Cole was known for helping and comforting others who were sick or sad. If he had the ability to help her, Cullen would take that chance.  
“Very well. But if you upset her more, I shall throw you off the balcony.”  
Cole only nodded and said seriously, “I know you will try, but I'm faster than you. You’d never catch me.”  
Cole made his way up the steps and approached the bed with his usual quiet and grace. He placed the case on the foot of the bed. And waited. She didn't move or make any attempt to acknowledge him from under her blanket. Then he reached in to his vest and pulled out a small furry bundle. It was dark and fat and wiggly.   
“You know what to do,” he whispered to it encouragingly, as he placed the fuzz ball on the bed.   
Cullen’s eyes widened as he saw it clumsily make its way to the pile of sheets in the middle of the bed. It snuffled around and then made the smallest little yip noise. There was a shocked intake of breathe from the sheet mound.  
“Puppy?” The sheets started moving slowly until another yip had them moving more frantically. The inquisitor’s head appeared, hair completely unkempt, and she threw the covers off excitedly and reached for the little animal. “Puppy!”  
From one moment to the next, she went from catatonic to excitedly making the most disgusting display of herself over a small animal.  
“Puppy! Puppy! Puppy! With little puppy paws and a fat little puppy belly!”  
Cullen had to look away to keep himself from laughing. He had never seen her look more ridiculous. It was such a relief. Though, at the same time, he had been trying to get her a mabari for a while. It was disappointing that Cole had gotten one for her first. Though where it had come from was an absolute mystery.  
“Where did it come from?” the inquisitor asked Cole, clutching the dog’s small body to her chest as it enthusiastically wiggled its little body with excitement and licked her chin.  
“The commander asked for a kennel master to come to Skyhold with some mabari hounds. I simply brought you the most fitting pup, but it is Cullen who found them for you.”  
Her eyes turned to him, round with wonder. “You got me a puppy?”  
He cleared his throat. “I simply made a tactical decision on the addition of mabari support our forces. Many of our soldiers are Ferelden and are accustomed to the animals. It seemed a logical.”  
Her smile only widened. “You got me a puppy.”  
He conceded with a sigh and sat on the bed beside her. “Yes, I got you a puppy. In fact, I got you a litter of puppies.”  
Her squeal of joy mad him laugh.   
Cole looked on with a sincere smile. He had a soft spot for the inquisitor, and he was glad to have truly been able to help her without also having to take her memory of it.   
“Thank you, Cole,” she said. “You’re quite wonderful.”  
He nodded his head, floppy wide brimmed hat shadowing his eyes. “I like helping.” He nudged the large case in her direction. “There’s one more thing, though it might be more difficult for you to accept.”  
She looked at it with cautious eyes. She knew what it was, but she still asked warily, “What is it?”  
“Your joy.”  
Trev handed the pup to Cullen, and pulled the case to her lap with trembling fingers. “Where did you get this, Cole? I thought I had hidden it well.”  
“You needed it,” he said simply. “So I found it.”  
“What is it,” Cullen asked. “What is it, really.”  
Her hand traced the leather and brass buckles. “One of my secrets.”  
Slowly she undid the buckles, opening the case as if the contents were going to hurt her. Which she supposed they would. She hadn't seen the contents in a long while. Not since the night she had tended Cullen when he had come back to the keep wounded. She had put it away and willed herself to become the person she had sworn to be after her escape from the circle. But denying herself this part of her existence had been painful. She had missed the music too much.  
“A fiddle?” Cullen’s voice was confused, a frown marring the line of his brow. The look would have been more intimidating if not for the little animal doing its very best to chew on the stubble of his chin. When realization hit, it was no less terrifying for Trev considering the spectacle he made with the puppy attached to his face.  
“You’re that girl, aren't you? The one from Kirkwall.”  
“Cullen, I’m so-  
“I looked for you.”  
“What?”  
“I looked for you,” he repeated. “For the young, patient girl who went back to the Ostwick circle. I wanted to make sure she had made it to safety.” He tugged her onto his shoulder, cradling the pup in his opposite hand. “And here she is. Safe. With me.”  
“Am I safe with you, Cullen?”  
“I have promised to prove to you that I am worth your affection. So I will trust you and give you time. If anyone understands how difficult truth can be, it’s me.”  
Cole made himself scarce as the two of them embraced.


	12. Adamant and an Apology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who loves Wardens? I certainly do. I was so sad to see what happened to them in Inquisition. Forgive me for the leeway with Hawke. I wanted her around for this scene for obvious reasons.
> 
> Chapter edited (and will be edited again when I have more time.)

They didn't have much time for the inquisitor to get herself together before they had to march on Adamant. The siege itself was harsh. One of the first true tests of the Inquisition’s power. They had been able to make way for the inquisitor and her party. She had made a joke and walked into madness, leaving Cullen behind to do his job and lead her men. And he would do her proud.  
He made his way deeper into the fighting, trying to free up as much space for his men as possible. Warden’s fought fiercely, and it brought him no pleasure to cut them down.  
"Watch out!"  
There was a flash of ice and lightning and Cullen turned to see the horde of demons at his back that would have surely cut him down if not for the warden's intervention. It was on the tip of his tongue to thank the mage, when she threw her blue hood back, revealing her face. A face he knew well.  
Green eyes glowed like emeralds from a face too delicately beautiful to not belong to a painting of Andraste herself. Her hair was deceptively dark, but he knew that in the sun it glowed a red deeper than a blood ruby. There was a fierce Mabari war hound at her heels. This was a woman whose face had haunted him for a decade. One he knew that he had a chance to meet here, but that he had hoped he wouldn't have to.  
The shock was short lived, however, as more demons came for them. They fought their way through the ranks, shoulder to shoulder, as if it was as natural as breathing. Both saying not a word. Though this was the first time they had ever defended the other's back. What could they have possibly said after so long a time? She yelled for wardens to stand down, asking them what had happened and then urging them to help the inquisition. Those that recognized who she was immediately switched sides and did what they could to persuade others to do the same. Apparently ending a blight and slaying an archdemon made people listen when you spoke. Word passed quickly that the hero of Ferelden had come, and sided with the inquisition. Cullen had never seen a battle turn so quickly, on reputation alone. Whatever Amell had become, it brought with it a great deal of respect and power.  
But he had little time to ponder this as Corypheus's archdemon swooped in for an attack. The inquisitor and her group had made all the way into the fortress, and just in time to stop the blood ritual.  
Much happened in quick succession. Clarel turned on the magister and then was killed by the archdemon. But not before she injured it with the last of her magic. The inquisitor, her party, Hawke, and the warden Stroud were all thrown into the fade.  
“What has happened,” Amell yelled to those who had attended the ritual who hadn't been turned into demons and then put down. “What have you all done?”  
“They’ve been fools and idiots, led astray by a magister who serves Corypheous.”  
They turned to see Hawke walking up to them. Her usual sarcasm subdued. She stood and eyed the warden, whose coloring and features she happened to share.  
“I am Hawke,” she said.  
“I wish I could say well met, cousin. But under these circumstances, that sentiment would be inappropriate.” Amell, moving to grasp the other woman’s hand.  
Cullen scowled. “Cousin!”  
Identical pairs of emerald green eyes, slightly turn up at the end turned to him. Though Hawke’s hair was more dark, and Amell had more freckles, they both possessed the same smirk. Now the strangeness Cullen had always felt around Hawke became clear. She made him uncomfortable because she looked like her cousin. Like Amell. The first woman he had ever loved. And betrayed.  
‘Well, shit,” he said succinctly.  
They both turned away from him, in unison once more, and began to discuss the situation. Completely ignoring him. Many wardens and inquisition soldiers were rushing about, asking for orders and bringing in updates. Eventually Leliana and Josephine appeared. Among the women, after consulting Solas, it was decided that they would wait to see if the inquisitor and her group could make it out of the fade. She had done it once, likely, hopefully, she could do it again.  
Honestly, Cullen was terrified. He wanted to help, to distract himself from the creeping madness the thought of never seeing the inquisitor again brought to the fore on his already compromised sanity. He felt sick. Like he was swimming though one of his nightmares and all he could do was try to breathe. Because this one was not a dream he could just wake up from. He was shaking. Someone must have noticed, because kind hands gently urged him to sit.  
Amell had noticed Cullen sway, and had rushed to help him. But he had not noticed her at all. His eyes were firmly fixed on the fade rift that was casting a sickly green glow to the courtyard and everyone inhabiting it. He looked like he was in shock.  
“It’s the inquisitor,’ the soft Orlesian accented voice behind her said.  
She looked at Leliana and asked quietly, “She’s his woman?”  
Leliana nodded. “And a mage.”  
Amell winced. She made sure someone stayed with him as she and Leliana walked off to be able to speak out of earshot.  
“How has he been, Leliana?” The warden commander’s voice was soft. Full of concern.  
“Competent. Capable. Driven.” Leliana leaned against a stone wall, keeping her voice down. “And still very much plagued by his demons. He’s not taking lyrium anymore.”  
“I see.” Her gloved hand rubbed the area between her eyes, right over the bridge of her nose.  
“The inquisitor is a skilled healer. She has been helping him with his withdrawal. She’s become a sort of support system for him. That and their personal attachment. I fear what will happen to our commander if she does not make it out of the fade. I fear what will happen to the inquisition without her, as well.”  
Amell sighed. “And it will be all the grey warden’s doing. This will destroy all of us. The bloody fools.”  
Leliana had travelled with Amell and Alistair long enough to understand the terrible decisions that needed to be made in the face of a blight. Especially when the oath of your order demanded that you do what was necessary to end a war with a demon possessed dragon and it’s army of plague ridden monsters. So in a way she could understand why the wardens had done what they did. But at the same time, it had been the most stupid and selfish thing.  
“Magister Eriomond is to blame for instigating the wardens. He somehow figured out a way to make all the wardens hear the calling and used it to convince Clarel to do this.”  
“Yes. I know about Erimond and his bullshit. A little Venatori magpie told me. After I beat it out of him. That’s why I came. I hoped to stop this before it started. But I was too late. Our entire order is shamed, now.”  
“What will you do?”  
“Whatever I have to to help those left behind by this madness. Someone will come for us, like they did before. Clarel paid the price for her betrayal of the order. But that only means there’s no one to punish.” She looked around the courtyard. The wardens were beaten. They were low with the gravity of what they had wrought. “I must find a way to make this better, somehow.”  
“Speak to Hawke. Her brother is a warden. She has plans to go to Weisshaupt.”  
“Yes, I’ve met Carver. Stroud presented him to me. Eager boy. His mouth usually earns him a punch to the face, though. I hear he gets that from his father.” She stepped away from Leliana, and half turned toward Hawke’s direction. “I shall speak to my cousin, then. Don't disappear.”

*

After a tense time of waiting and hopelessness, the inquisitor and her party all miraculously returned. Except Stroud, who had stayed behind to give the others the opportunity of escape. The news of his sacrifice saddened all the wardens that knew him. He was a good man. His loss was a terrible thing.  
Cullen was the first one at the inquisitor’s side when they finally came back through the fade rift. He had regained enough control from his immense relief to gather his wits about him, calling for a healer and arranging a place for the party to rest.  
Hours passed, as wardens and inquisition troops worked together to make sense of the awful mess at Adamant. Cullen was called away from the inquisitor’s side, and she slept for a little bit. She didn't feel all that bad really, just exhausted. She was having trouble sorting through her memories, and it was confusing. She was more worried for the others than she was for herself. And the fact that she wasn't really a herald of Andraste was more a relief than anything. Though Josie and Leliana would never allow her to tell anyone that, other than her advisors and her companions.  
She just wanted to crawl under a blanket and switch off for a while. Being a responsible adult was a joke.  
Trev got up to go find something to drink, and then realized there was no one around at all. But the closer she got to the courtyard of the keep, the more she could hear yelling. This could not be good at all.  
What she found was indeed not what she would ever classify as good.  
It looked like every soldier and warden that could cram themselves into the courtyard and around the battlements were all gathered around two arguing people.  
Ugh. Maker, why…  
“They’ve been at it for at least the last twenty minutes.” Hawke’s voice was amused. And exhausted.  
The inquisitor just looked at her and grimaced. Hawke took pity on her and patted her on the shoulder, passing over a cup. “It’s hot as balls out here. Drink.” And then she held Trev up as she swayed trying to take a sip of her water. Hawke was sure the argument below them was doing little to help her feel better.  
“You of all people, defending their actions? What they did was foolish and wrong,” Cullen yelled.  
The warden’s eyes were like steel. Her features bespoke a strength of will little Amell from the Fereldan circle hadn't even known existed in the world. As much as he was a commander of the inquisition, she was a commander in her own right, as well.  
"Yes, I know. But we are grey wardens. We are charged with doing what we have to to protect everyone. And what is necessary isn't always what is right. They played on our fears, used the taint to control us. We, all of us, are terrified of the calling. We are terrified at failing in our duty, because we know what will happen if we do not prevent the archdemon from taking power. I’ve seen it firsthand." She sighed, a decade of war and responsibility weighing her down. "Cullen, I'm not arguing with you. What Clarel did was wrong, but she did it out of equal parts fear and duty.” She looked at him cooly and repeated, “We are wardens. Your rules and restrictions do not apply to us. We care nothing for monarchies and politics. For us, the ends justify the means. They have to. Because in the end, no one else can do what we do. That is a grievous responsibility."  
"That just sounds like a perfect excuse to do anything you like with no consequences and no oversight."  
"You have no idea what you're talking about. And I have no time to educate you. But still, Clarel should have known better. It was passed time for her to step down."  
"Excuses," he sneered. Everything was going back to his time at the circle. The blood magic, demons, and death. Part of him knew that he was reacting unfairly once more, taking out his anger and trauma on the innocent that had come to help. But that part of his brain still had a hard time with control. "Mages can't help themselves. Grey wardens are just another excuse to abuse power without consequences."  
The words were barely out of his mouth when a vicious pain exploded in his face, making his teeth bleed and his eyes cross. The sound of the slap resounded and rebounded off the stone walls of the fortress and through the silent crowd of soldiers and wardens who had all stopped what they were doing to watch.  
"I do not care if I am a Mage and you are a Templar. Compared to an archdemon, you are an insect I could crush under my boot heel. And just like an insect, I have more important creatures to contend with." She turned and walked into the crowd of wardens, calling for the senior members to come forward. Taking control away from the inquisition for the moment, and not giving one damn who she offended while doing it.  
Leaving Cullen to feel like a complete idiot.  
It wasn't until later, when he had gone to find the inquisitor, that he calmed down and realized what he had done.  
“You were worried and it made you a little crazy. It’s all right.” Trev’s smoky voice, full of amused understanding, made him feel worse. “I like the wardens, and I admire them. I don't want to subjugate them. But we need to deal with them. Hawke has volunteered to go to Weisshaupt, and she wants to take as many wardens as are willing to go with her.”  
“Should we just let them traipse around, unsupervised, after this fiasco?”  
“They won’t be unsupervised. I’ve already agreed that they will have our support, thus we can watch them. I have also told your warden that if any of them want to join the inquisition, we would gladly accept them.”  
Cullen cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s not my warden.”  
Trev laughed. “Of course she is. Or your wouldn't be so upset at her.”  
He didn't know how to respond to that.  
“You need to speak to her, and tell her all the things you’ve been worrying about for the past decade. That way you can finally let go.” She wasn't angry or jealous. She was concerned, and that confused him.  
“I’m not certain that I-“  
Her mouth cut off his words in a kiss he was so very grateful to receive. To be able to touch her was a gift. He had been so worried while she had been in the fade. His arms encircled her and pulled her close. He couldn’t lose her. They had long since passed the time when he could function without her.  
“I’ll go and find her,” he promised.

*

It was sundown when he finally tracked down Amell. He had cornered her, alone, on the battlements and had haltingly apologized for the irrational mess he had made of himself in the courtyard earlier that day.  
"Funny," she said softly. "I dreamt of doing that to you for over a decade. And when I finally got the chance to strike you, it gave me very little satisfaction." She reached out and gently touched the bruise that had formed on his face. "I'm rather disappointed in myself. The first time I touch you, truly touch you, was to inflict pain. That is not how I wanted things to be between us." Their eyes met and kind memories filled the distance between them. Stuttered words and shy blushes. The innocent children that once exchanged longing glances had had the shit beaten out of them by trauma and loss. Whatever opportunity they would have had being each other's happiness had long ago passed. But as for the regret and the shame, this was an opportunity to put that behind them.  
He tugged off his glove and reached for her other hand. "You and I... I have no words to describe what you meant to me then. Young love should never be murdered in such a fashion."  
She chuckled softly. "Young love, huh? Are we in our declining years now?"  
He smiled, in spite of himself. "What else would you call it?"  
"I don't know. That girl no longer exists. I've changed so drastically. And while you were transformed though the events at the tower, you have always been a soldier. I was headed for a life of academic study. Buried in old books and parchment. Living my life in quiet reflection. If Duncan hadn't come for me, I would have died in the tower. And someone else would now be the hero of Ferelden." She wrapped her arms around herself in an effort to calm her slight trembles. A moment of weakness. A few words of truth. Then she could go back to hiding behind that griffon symbol on her chest, shouting orders and managing lives. "I never forgot you, Cullen. Not ever."  
His words shook slightly as he responded. "Nor I you."  
Her luminous eyes filled with tears that she would never allow to fall. And she smiled sadly. "I like your inquisitor. She seems a good match for you. She'll keep you on your toes."  
"She is a force of nature. I'm rather embarrassed, actually."  
"Why is that?"  
He laughed. A real laugh, full of amusement. "It suddenly dawns on me that I have a type."  
Amell's laughter joined his. "Well, I hate to admit it, but I seem to have one as well."  
"You and a Templar?"  
"After a fashion. He hadn't taken his vows yet."  
Cullen's eyes widened a fraction. "Don't tell me... You and King Alistair?"  
The soft look in her eyes, the sweetness of her smile. There was no mistaking his guess to be false. "It's not like a mage and a king could be together."  
"But he was a warden. You could have stayed together like that."  
"But he wasn't a very good warden. He's a much better king. He's a wonderful king."  
"He certainly is," Cullen agreed. "That explains why he hasn't married in over a decade."  
"He's just contrary and hates being told what to do. It's not about me. It's been too long for him to still feel that way."  
Cullen took her hands and looked her straight in the eye. "I may have found a woman that I love that makes my world complete, but you quickly forget what I just confessed. I loved you. I have carried you with me for years. And having once felt that great emotion for you, I can attest to the fact that you are not a woman a man can just stop loving. Not for decades. Centuries. If Alistair were to announce his engagement tomorrow I would leave the inquisition and beat him death."  
She laughed again, tears threatening to spill once more. And with his ungloved hand he reached up and wiped them away, feeling the moisture on his fingers and feeling somehow lighter for finally, FINALLY, being able to show her some care. "I am sorry, you know. For what happened at the tower. I-" she pressed her finger to his lips and shook her head. Then she leaned in and kissed him.  
It was soft and warm and sweet. As if the two innocents they had once been we're sharing this moment, and not two war hardened army commanders. The kiss lasted only a moment, and on a sigh she stepped back.  
"All is forgiven," she whispered. And it took him a moment to realize that everything was fine. He felt amazing. As if his ghosts had let go of their hold on him enough to let him breathe.  
Boots pounded up the stairs and a stern voice queried, "Commander?"  
They both turned and in unison said, "Yes?" Then they both laughed.  
Amell apologized and went with the warden that had come for her, leaving him alone on the battlements. It didn't take long for the inquisitor to show up, just as he knew she would. He gathered her to his heart and just held on, taking in the scent of her hair and skin. Feeling lighter than he could remember in the last ten years of his life.


	13. The Orlesian Mage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There should be about three or four more chapters left to the story. Let me know how you like it! Thanks for reading!

This situation with the wardens was an absolute mess. If Trev had to look into the broken, soulless eyes of another man or woman who had come to the realization of what they had almost brought about out of misguided desperation, she was probably going to start cursing. Not even the indomitable hero of Ferelden seemed to be able to rally their spirits. Not that she looked much better, really. But in her eyes there was an angry fire. Determination tinged with sadness.  
This was probably breaking her heart. And that knowledge weighed more on Trev than anything else. It was more than obvious that Amell loved the wardens. She truly hoped the inquisition never ended up like this. That would truly be a nightmare.  
It had been decided that those that wished to join the inquisition were welcome to go back with them to Skyhold, while the rest would go with Hawke to Weisshaupt. She and Amell were currently making their way through the remaining wardens to see which they preferred. Both trying to bolster their flagging spirits. Hawke making horribly inappropriate jokes, and Amell smiling kindly, saying words of comfort and care.  
Trev could see why Cullen had been taken with her. Amell was a genuinely good woman, with kindness in her very bones. She had been born noble, and though she had been raised in the Ferelden circle tower she had somehow been able to retain a semblance of that delicacy through archdemons and darkspawn. Not to mention that the ferocity of her care for her fellow wardens was evident in everything she did. She knew everything that was going on at the fortress. Who was in need of medical care, who had families back home that needed support, and who needed a swift kick in the ass to fall in line. Not all of these men and women were Ferelden and that mattered not one whit to her. They were hers.  
The jealousy Trev had been holding back peeked out of its dark hole for a moment. Damn that woman, with her perfection. Her blood red hair and beautiful green eyes. Her amazingly perfect skin. With all her goodness and loyalty. UGH.  
And then Trev laughed. Her silliness spent, and her jealousy back where it belonged, locked away. There was no time for petty emotions now. She simply needed to show her people that she too could be as reliable as that other, more radiant creature. And besides, Cullen didn't seem too taken by her anymore. If that embrace he gave her when she fell out of the fade had been any indication. It hadn't even mattered to him that all the wardens and soldiers had been watching. He had gathered her close to his heart and repeated her name into her hair over and over again, as if it were a prayer. The scene had burned itself into her mind, warming her, and carrying her through this sad ordeal.  
And then she suddenly remembered King Alistair. They had met when she gone to help free the Mages from Venatori control. From what Leliana had said, he and the warden had loved, and still loved, each other. He had been so angry at them, soundly kicking them all out. Not that Trev blamed him, really. But later the letter he had sent her had been hilarious. It had made her regret his ambivalence toward her, as she would probably have had a great deal of fun getting to know the king of Ferelden. Trev truly hoped that the both of them would somehow be able to find a way.  
“Inquisitor?”  
“Hm?” She looked up, pulled from her thoughts.  
Leliana stood before her, sweating.  
“Don’t you think your armor is a bit… unnecessary for this environment? I’ve never seen an archer wear so much metal in my life.” Trev didn't have place to judge, though. Her leather armor was just as stifling.  
Leliana only smiled for a moment and shook her head. “Amell wants you to meet with some of the wardens that have agreed to join the inquisition. One in particular is very interesting.”  
“How so?”  
“Apparently while we were working to fight our way in, he was trying to undermine Clarel’s influence with the other wardens. He helped us subdue them on the upper levels and immediately joined us when we started fighting off the demons.”  
“So he tried to stop this madness?”  
“From what I can gather in my reports, yes.”  
“Interesting.” It was at least welcome news in the midst of this depressing madness. “Let us go meet this rebel.”  
Amell stood in a half circle with Cullen, Hawke, Josie and three other wardens, in what appeared to be a deeply serious discussion. Everyone was a little worse for the wear, their exhaustion and stifling armor making them seem to melt slightly into themselves.  
The other wardens looked a little better. but tired. As if they had seen things like what had happened at Adamant before, and it no longer surprised them. It just wore them down. Though they still looked strong enough to weather the trouble, they had a defeated look in their eyes.  
Trev was ushered forward to meet the wardens, each in turn being introduced to her with a small explanation of where they came from and what their duties were in the order. It wasn't until she had gone to shake the hand of the only male of the group that she realized something rather… odd about him. Her eyes widened involuntarily, and her breathe caught in the back of her throat.  
“This is Geraud Chavarin. He has been with the order for fifteen years. He is the one that was trying to get the others to stand down when we arrived.” Josie gestured to to the man who was bowing slightly over her hand like a gentleman.  
He stood and smiled kindly, releasing her hand after giving it a bit of a squeeze. His warden mage armor was worn, but serviceable. The bright blue now the color of a cloudless sky on a summer day. His dark hair was tied back from his face, but fell in waves down his back, the darkest black peppered with silver. He had a strong jaw, a high forehead and a stubborn mouth.  
“It was more than plain to see that Erimond was nothing more than a liar selling snake oil.” The Orlesian accent was lovely in his soft, deep voice. “I had done my best to rally my comrades and stop the menteur before he completed his plans. I am just grateful the demoiselle and her people arrived in such a timely fashion.”  
Cullen watched Trev as everyone around them continued speaking. She was shaking. No one else would have seen it, but he was beginning to understand how she functioned. The clenching of her fingers, and how she pressed her arms to her sides to keep her frame rigid. Something about the Orlesian mage had affected her. She managed to gather her wits enough to halfheartedly join in on the conversation and pardoned herself as soon as it was polite to do so. Which bewildered Cullen even more. When had she ever been polite about anything in her life?  
He found her some time later, in a dark corner, gripping a cool drink in her hands and staring into the shadows. Her eyes were wide, full of emotions he could not discern, lost in some sort of thought that made it seem like she didn't belong to this piece of reality.  
He crouched beside her and forced her to look at him. His gauntleted hands gently wiped the traces of desert sand from her face that had the tendency of being blown around by desert winds. Her skin was starting to tan slightly, and her freckles were gaining in number. “Is it something you can tell me? I am willing to listen.”  
She shook her head, perplexed. She leaned into his hand while wrapping her fingers around his wrist and closing her eyes for a moment to rest her mind. “I don't even know the words I would need to use to communicate to you what I am feeling right now.”  
“Then what is that that you are thinking right now?”  
She paused for a moment, searching for the words. “I am thinking: ‘That man should be dead.’”  
Cullen frowned, “The Orlesian mage?”  
“Yes.” She opened her eyes and took a cleansing breathe, reaching for the cup of water she had placed by her feet. A surprisingly steady hand brought the cup to her lips and she took a gulp of her drink. Cullen noticed the little bits of ice chips floating around in the cup. The perks of being a mage, able to manipulate ice in the desert.  
“Do you know him from before?” Perhaps if he asked her simple questions, she could give him simple answers and he could at least understand a fraction of what was going on.  
“Yes.” She stayed silent for a moment, debating. “I last saw him when I was eight. We were told he had been executed.”  
“Did he harm you in some way? Is he a threat to you.”  
“No, he never harmed me. And while he can be a very big threat, it wouldn't be to me. Maybe.” She looked off into the shadows again, seeing something he couldn’t. “This complicates things.”  
“Is there anything else you can tell me?”  
She smiles and leaned forward, pressing a warm kiss to his lips. “I cannot. I must protect something precious. My silence is all I have.”  
He accepted her words, though they frustrated him, and kissed her back. But somehow in the process of deepening the kiss and reaching to pull her closer she ended up between him and the wall. Which she didn't seem to mind too much, as she levered herself up, wrapping her legs around his waist. And rubbing herself against him for all she was worth.  
All the fear and desperation he felt when she had been thrown into he fade caused a fever in his mind, as he clutched her to himself. Their mouths fused, swallowing each other’s sounds of frenzied pleasure. The dark corner she had been sitting in was secluded enough where people could pass by without noticing anything. As long as they were quiet. He didn't know how long that was going to last, though, considering she was encouraging him quite shamelessly. Her fingers found their way into his curls and gripped down, levering his mouth into a more accessible position. His hands slid to her ass, lifting her legs higher on his hips as the both of them expressed their relief and fear to each other.  
But then she pulled away, putting her feet on the ground. Pushing him toward the chair she had vacated. Without a word she removed her gloves and coat. They ended up in a pile by his feet, and she wrapped herself around him once more, sitting on his lap. Their mouths met again. She was lighter now, unencumbered but stifling leather, her softness sinking into him through his armor.  
“Will you let me corrupt you a little bit, Cullen?” She was grinding herself against him, creating a friction that wasn't helping his breathing. “Just a tiny bit.”  
He must have said yes, because she smiled. He wasn't in any condition to protest, really. He was too far gone to remember his promise about respecting her. And she knew it, as she slid down between his legs.  
Trev spoke reassuring words to him as she as her clever hands slid up his thighs. reaching for the ties to his trousers. Cullen felt like he was going to explode at any moment.  
“Has anyone seen the Inquisitor?” a loud clear voice rang out. “The champion of Kirkwall and the warden commander are asking for her.”  
Cullen nearly rammed his head through the wall at his back. Sadly, Trev stood slowly, regret and longing in her eyes. She leaned over and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips.  
“Always with the bad timing, my love.” And she left him there in a heap, wondering how he was going to be able to walk back to his station when he could barely stand.

***  
It took a few days, and a lot of Josie’s charm, but eventually the inquisition had been able to negotiate the warden’s safety through the lands that would constitute their journey back to Weisshaupt. Trev hoped that it would give them some small comfort. But since many of them believed they had shamed and practically destroyed their order, it was doubtful.  
Amell had disappeared in the night, along with her mabari. Cullen had told Trev the next day, saying that she had come to say her farewells to him before departing. He had smiled, as if remembering an old friend fondly. It made Trev’s heart ache, in a good way. He was letting go of regrets.  
That and the treatment she had been giving him for his lyrium withdrawal seemed to be helping greatly with his mood. He joked more often, finding amusement in mundane things. It was wonderful to see.  
Unless she had to deal directly with warden matter, Trev avoided them as much as she could. Especially if any of them had a trace of an Orlesian accent. She busied herself with more mundane matters and hid behind paperwork and planning. Which really was a help to the others. Overtaking a fort and replacing its forces with your own, with appropriate and necessary provisions was not an easy task. And although there was a general sense of dislike to the idea of occupying a place that had been host to blood magic and demon possession, it was a strategic point that needed to be held.  
It took a few weeks of hard and unforgiving work, but eventually the inquisitor and the others returned to Skyhold. There was a lot of work to do to prepare for the small group of wardens that had volunteered to join the inquisition. Buildings needed to be fixed, supplies ordered, quarters mended.  
The inquisition had turned into a great living beast that needed as much governance as a small country. And Trev had become it’s heartbeat.


End file.
